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LIBRi\RY OF CONGRESS. 



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jOpgrtjW ||o { 

t ^^ l£^1 I 

* UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 




THE 



PARTEERE 



A COLLECTION OF 



FLOWERS CULLED BY THE WAYSIDE. 



BY D. W. BE LISLE. 



■ Go, cull the choicest gems of truth ; 
Go, gather fancy's brilliant flowers." 




PHILADELPHIA: 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT AND COMPANY. 

STEBEOTVPKD BY L. JOHNSON AND CO. 

1849. 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1349, by 

D. W. B E L I S L E , 

in the office of the Clerk Of the District Court of the United States, 

in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 




EARL WHEELER, Esq., 

THIS 

LITTLE VOLUME 

IS 

RESPECTF U L LY DEDICATED 

BY THE AUTHOR. 



To thee, dear friend, my humble Muse would sing 

A {ew brief strains— though simple they may seem- 
'T is the meek tribute of my heart they bring, 

The grateful offering of my spirit's dream. 
And, thus, to thee, I fain would offer up 

My feeling soul — with all its cherish'd truth — 
Oh ! say— wilt thou receive the proffer'd cup 

And drink, or scorn the waywardness of youth ? 



TO THE READER. 

As gentle rains recall the drooping flowers, 

And moisten and revivify the soil — 
So, a few pearls, culled in my leisure hours, 

Perchance, may prove a tribute for my toil. 
And if, the while, there dwell within one heart 

A hidden germ untouched by sunshine yet, 
May tliis meek offering of my Muse impart 

A moral ray that heart will ne"er forget — 
To call it up from its secluded bower, 
A full, rich, fragrant, and untainted flower, 

D. W. B. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

A Scene from Real Life, 90 

A Similitude, 56 

Autumn, 67 

A Simile, 16 

Address to the Reader, 3 

A Fragment, 117 

An Ode for the Fourth of July, 120 

An Obituary, 109 

A Poet's Vision, 87 

Battle of Buena Vista, 59 

Birth Place, My 37 

Be Bold ! 126 

Chasten'd Face, That 71 

Childhood's Home, 58 

Death of Major Ringgold, . 72 

Dying Soldier to his Mother, The 34 

Dedication, ^ 

Dead of Monterey, The 21 

Death of S. B. K., 81 

Departed Year, The 82 

Evening Reverie, An ...*..•• 52 

Exiles' Return, 63 

Forsaken, The 26 

Flight of Time, 62 

Forgiveness, 68 

Forest Foundling, The ..,..■•• 55 

Genius, Death of 31 

Germ of Liberty, 39 

Grave of Alaric, 75 

Hope, 110 

Helen, Dorcas, * 99 

Jewels, Memory's • • 65 

Lament of the Inebriate, 88 

Lost Child, The ^2 

A2 5 



Contfiits. 



Page 

Leaflets of Memory, 74 

Lines to a Friend, 50 

My Motlier's Grave, 23 

My Wife and Child, • 70 

Moonlight on the Grave 108 

Musings, Twilight 100 

Napoleon in the Kremlin, 17 

Nature's Music, 119 

Nature's Consecration, 86 

Our Little Son, .......... 61 

Orvilla, To * . 77 

Pleasant Valley, 10 

Sunlight on the Hills, 25 

Stanzas, 20 

Storm at Sea, The 35 

Strangers, The . . 73 

Spring, Return of 102 

Spring Voices, 53 

Sum of Life, The 

Sonnet, ^ . . 115 

Sadness, IO3 

To Tam, 79 

The Wallenpaupack, 28 

To a Friend— On Parting, 78 

The Liberated Slave, 

To my Wife, 

To O *****, . . . • 89 

There is Music Everywhere, 128 

The Expulsion, . . 105 

The Wanderer's Return, HO 

To the Oriole — A Lay, . .122 

The Repenting Sinner, HI 

To Lyra, 123 

The Returning Prodigal, ....... 124 

The Daughter to her Mother, 112 

The Inebriate's Grave, 127 

The Loved and Lost, II4 

Winter, 104 



THE PARTERRE, 



THE SUM OF LIFE. 

Bright siinshine gather'd on the hills, 

And caird to life the flowers ; 
It smiled upon the darken'd rills, 

And fiird with song the bowers. 
A child }iad sought the mountain's side 

To cull the violets blue — 
He ranged the greenwood far and wide — 

Had pleasure in it, too. 

The forests changed — a deeper shade 

Upon the earth was spread j 
Again that little child had stray'd — 

Though years o'er him had fled. 
And now a youth of slender mien, 

Of proud and graceful form — 
Full twenty summers he had seen 

Of sunshine, cloud, and storm. 

Another change — ^the yellow leaf 
Hung trembling in the breeze ; 

The child had witness'd joy and grief, 
Known sorrow, pain, and ease. 



5rf)E parterre : 9. (Collection of jTlofcrrs 



Now forty years had dimm"d the cheek 

Of him who stood of yore 
Upon that mountain's simny peak, 

Where twice he stood before. 

Another yet — the wintry blast 

Swept fiercely o'er the plain ; 
Life's Rubicon the child had pass"d. 

He sought the hill again. 
Around him lay the withered leaves 

Profusely, scattered wide, 
Like yellow harvest's golden sheaves, — 

And there he wept and died. 



LONELINESS. 

'T IS sweet to muse o'er seasons past. 

When joy and hope were fair, 
When on our sunny paths were cast 
Life's choicest blessings tliick and fast, 
Undimm'd by pain or care. 

But, it is sweeter far to know 
That there are friends sincere, 

While passing through this vale below, 
Who sometimes greet us here ; 

And whose soft words like music flow, 
Our lonely hearts to cheer. 



©atfjcrrtt bji tfje ©SEaa^sitic. 



THE DYING EAGLE. 

Ble>-t with the rainbow's purple rays, 
Above the clouds of mist and haze, 

A floating spot was seen ; 
And upward, upward, upward still. 
It wheePd its cloud-like form, until 

Lost in the sun's bright sheen. 

Now, plunging from his eyrie-height — 
Reflecting back the rays of light 

That -on his plumage fell — 
Down shot the eagle — Freedom's bird — 
Whose wdld, deep, fearful shriek is heard 

Along the rocky dell. 

With lightning speed he darts beneath, 
And round his mottled crest a wreath 

Of freedom's gems is hung, — 
Those gems were placed upon his breast 
When Freedom's star first lit the west, 

And Liberty was young. 

Again the eagle mounts the sky 

With outspread wing — ^his glancing eye 

Surveys the hills around: 
But lo, he wavers in his flight! 
And from the azure fields of light 

He topples to the ground ! 



STfje parterre : ^ Collrclion of Jlotorrg 



Why lays that noble bird a wreck '? 
A serpent coil'd around his neck, 

And fix'd its deadly fang 
Deep in his side — the eagle's shriek 
From yon high mountain's craggy peak 

Far o'er the forest rang. 

Thus tyranny will seek to bind 
The freedom of the human mind 

In chains of slavish fear — 
Till Liberty at last shall die 
Like that proud eagle, whose shrill cry 

Grates on the tyrant's ear. 



PLEASANT VALLEY. 

'T WAS evening, and Lyra was gleammg afar, 
The fairest, the purest, the loveliest star, 
And a golden-tinged cloud, like an angel's soft crest. 
Majestic, hung tremblingly poised in the west. 

All nature was hush'd into tranquil repose. 
And nought, save the waterfall's murm'ring, arose 
O'er the forest-clad mountain whose bold, sable broAV 
Indignantly frowns on the valley below. 

On the mild, spicy breeze, in the distance away, 

Roird a vapoury cloud of the cataract's spray. 

And borne by the zephyr, 'twas scattered around, 

Like a shower of dew-drops, afar o'er the ground. 
10 



©atfjcrrt fig ti^e Wiau-sitjc. 



The leaves had been falling — all yellow and sere — 
The aspect of nature was solemn and drear — 
And the soft rays of Cynthia, feeble and pale, 
Cast a deep melancholy and gloom on the vale. 

As I gazed on the Dyberry's pure, crystal tide, 
That tranquilly flows by the dark mountain's side, 
Far up through the deep-tangled forest serene 
The flickering lights of the hamlet were seen. 

How deep was the stillness ! The river that flows. 
Like the midnight of death, where the pale taper 

glows, 
Held a star in each wave, as the hope of the blest, 
Which points the sojourner to heaven — ^his rest. 

I have stood by this stream when its billows roll'd 

high. 
And its foam-crested waves hurried furiously by ; 
I have seen the tall tree borne aloof on its wave, 
And cast on the shore which its wild surges lave. 

And thus I have mused, — The cold river of time 
That bears on its bosom, in every clime. 
The fair and the gifted, the grave and the gay. 
Will anchor them safely in Heaven's broad bay. 



Ef)e parterre : "S (TolIcctioiT of jFlotoers 



THE LOST CHILD. 

The world was hush'd — dread stillness reign'd 

Among the dun-clad hills, 
And nought was heard, save o'er the plains 

The music of the rills — 
And nought above the earth was seen, 
Save here and there, with glittering sheen, 

A peerless star reveal'd 
Its gems upon the brow of night, 
And sparkled far in heaven's bright 

Illimitable field. 

Nighfs stately queen, just risen, appear'd 

A ball of fiery red. 
And myriad hosts of brilliant lamps 

Were burning overhead, — 
But, soon bedimmxl with gathering clouds, 
As wrapp'd in death's untimely shrouds. 

Each starry light expired ; 
And, hid behind the folds of night. 
The queenly orb withdrew her light, 

And modestly retired. 

The storm-god in his mad career 

Led on the howling blast. 

And rustling through the birchen boughs, 

The snow fell thick and fast ; 
12 



©atfjcrctr fia tfje MUn^-siXie. 



Till o'er the mountain's hoary head, 
Stern winter's icy robes were spread, 

And lost was every path — 
Till spirit-voices in the wild 
Abstracted from the v^^andering child 

The courage childhood hath. 

She drew her mantle to her breast, 

And braved the beating storm, 
Till overcome, she sunk to rest, 

A pale and helpless form ; — 
She dream'd — and in her dream, behold ! 
The scenes of childhood backward roU'd, 

To that fair, sunny spot, 
Where she had roam'd a wary child, 
By crystal stream, and leafy wild, 

Beside her mountain cot. 

Again the flowers of spring had come — 

Sweet voices filled the air — 
The music of the insects' hum 

She deem"d was everywhere ; — 
To her the chiming spheres were rife — 
All nature secm"d replete with life — 

But, how illusive were 
The scenes to which that dream had led 
Her fancy — and, how soon they fled. 

And left her lifeless there ! 



The storni subsided — winter past — 

Within that forest-glen 

B 13 



:±\ 



Ef)t parterre : ^ Collection of jFloiuers 



The child's remains were found at last, 

Far from the haunt of men. 
As touch'd by spring's Ithuriel wand, 
Sweet violets sprung through all the land, 

And from her place of rest, 
A rose had rear'd its crimson head, 
Blossom'd and grew above the dead, 
Then faded on her breast. 



A MOTHER'S GRIEF. 

Twilight had spread its silver'd draperies 

O'er mountain, vale and sea. The stars were just 

Emerging from their far-off realms, and like 

The watchful eye of Him who never sleeps 

Look'd down, in brightness, through the gathering shades. 

Nought broke the calm, save o'er the quiet vale 

The noisy stream as it meander'd by, 

And the shrill tinkling of the distant bell, 

Or watch-dog's baying from the hermit's cot. 

The moon with queenly splendour rode the sky. 

Bathing the earth in her soft, mellow light. 

It was a sacred hour. The vesper-bells 

Broke on the stillness of the quiet scene ; 

And, as their strains in echoes died away 

In low, sweet cadence, o'er the distant hills, 

It seem'd as though an angel choir had come 

From fairer climes to serenade the earth, 

And then retreated at the gloom they saw ! 
14 



©aHjfrc^ 62 tf)e 212Jaa=sitie. 



Such was the hour. I Avander"d to the place — 
The silent place — the city of the dead — 
Where he who treads should turn his thoughts aside 
From things of earth, and feel himself as nought. 
I paused. Upon my ear, like the sad tones 
Of sorrow in severest chastisement, 
A voice, meek and submissive, caught my ear — 

Yes ! — thou art dead, my child ! Thy little hands 
Will toss my curls in playfulness no more ! 
Thy fingers — they are clench'd — they do not move, — 
I felt them on my cheek as to ray breast 
I press'd thy lifeless form — ^but, oh ! how cold ! 
I gazed into thine eyes ! their lids were closed ! 
And o'er them Death his signet seal had set. 
Thy merry voice ! how like a soft-toned lute 
(Whose strains are sweetest at the twdlight hour) 
It seem'd, — it too is hushed — save now and then, 
In whispers from the spirit land, it breathes 
Such melody as angels love to hear, 
Bidding my heart be glad. 

The silvery moon, 
Half hid, to-night, behind a veil of clouds, 
Whose broken turrets, pointing upwards, seem 
Like mountains tinsel'd with a fringe of gold — 
While in the waters of the rippled sea. 
Ten thousand stars like living gems are set. 

Such scenes I love, as by thy grave I weep, 
So like thy pure and lustrous eyes they seem ; 
And even now, though silent, cold and dead, 
Metliinks, through them, thou'rt watching o'er my grief, 
And counting all my tears. I would not wish 



15 



8r^e parterre : % CEoIIrction of jFlobJcrs 



Thee back. Oh, no ! — earth's pilgrimage is drear — 
So thickly set witli ills, that when a flower 
Springs up afresh in some deserted bower, 
A worm is near to blight its opening buds, 
And sip its sweetness till its trunk decays ! 

Thou art at rest, my gentle one ! Sleep on 
Till from the grave each particle of dust, 
Reanimate, again shall rise adorn'd 
With never-changing garniture of bliss. 
Cease weeping then, my heart ! My tears, be dry ! 
Turn from thy dark forebodings, and be wise, 
And with creation and creation's God 
Commune, with angels, happiness and heaven : 
So when thy turn shall come thou mayst be found 
Prepared to meet thy lost one in the skies. 



A SIMILE. 

The brightest stream that gently flows 
Through shady grove and flow"ry lea, 

More deep and dark and turbid grows, 
As it advances towards the sea. 

And such is life : time onward glides. 

Through clouds and storms, until the sea, 

On which oxu: barque unanchor'd rides. 
Is lost in vast eternity. 



©atfjcrcti I)|i tfje SMaS'-sitic. 



NAPOLEON IN THE KREMLIN. 

Within the halls of Russia's Czars 

Europea's conqueror stood, 
In all the dignity of Mars — 

The god of war and blood ; 
Until each palace, street and tower, 
In stillness seem'd ; a mystic power 
Of fear and apprehension stole 
Athwart the daring Corsic's soul. 

Despair now seized the Emperor's mind, 

His hopes were wither'd, fled ; 
Unto ambition he was blind. 

His soul was filFd with dread — 
And yet a noble front he bore, 
And placid features still he wore. 

Now, like a molten sea of flame, 

Swept by an angry blast, 
The lurid surges onward came, 

As heaving mountains, vast. 
And by the sweeping winds were hurl'd 
Like fiery eddies round the world. 

And, fearlessly, Napoleon stood 

Within the Kremlin halls, 

Regardless of the threatening flood 

Which swept its massive walls ; 

b2 r 



Ei)t ^arterrt : ^ (Collection of jriointrs 



Until the towering Palace blazed, 
He stood undaunted, unamazed. 

Nigh fifty battles he had fought, 

As m£Uiy victories won, 
And in the hottest charge ne'er thought 

To flee a foeman's gun : 
But now he stood aghast, and wept, 
While onward still the billows swept. 

Now to the clouds, huge sheets of fire 

In pitchy flames were cast, 
Like burning billows thicker, higher, 

Which seem'd to light the west ; 
And as they gather d strength to rise. 
Their folds had met the bending skies. 

Thicker and hotter grew the fire, 

Huge volumes rose and fell; 
One only place he could retire 

From that consuming hell • 
And from the Palace of the Czars 
The rising surges met the stars. 

Wildly that broiling, burning sea, 

Against the Kremlin beat ; 
Napoleon paused — ^he wish'd to flee — 

But, lo ! in every street 
Arose vast sheets of fiery spray, 
Which seem'd to block the conqueror's way. 

Those gathering waves, in teeming ire, 
Sxmk down and rose again. 



18 



(Satf)crrti ig tf)e OTag^silje. 



In whirling eddies, upward, higher, 
Like waves that rise and then retire, — 
It seem'd a boist'rous sea of fire, 
Which floods could not restrain. 

But still amid that sea arose 

The Kremlin's lofty spire, 
A type of truth, which will disclose, 

Nature's dissoh ing pyre, 
When round Creation's vast extent 
The quivering barbs of wrath are sent. 

As when God spake, on Sinai's height, 
In thunders from his throne. 

Up shot the lurid flashes, bright. 
And trembled as they shone — 

And, borne upon the rising swell. 
Vast sheets of burning canvass fell. 

There desolation seem'd to spread 

Its all-consuming wings. 
As if the heavens again had shed, 

Down from the King of kings. 
Another shower of fire and rain. 

Like that wliich fell in Siddim's plain. 



19 



Ei)c ^artcrrr : ^ (Collection of JTlotaers 



STANZAS. 

'T WAS summer, and 'round me the flowers were springing, 
And sweetly their incense was home on the hreeze ; 

The woodlands and forests with music were ringing, ^ 
From birds that were warbling among the green trees. 

The zephyrs' soft pinions afar o'er the ocean 

Had borne the perfumes of the sweet-scented rose ; 

And curled its soft bosom in gentle commotion, 
Like stripes in the heavens at sunlight's repose. 

Both careless and reckless I wander'd, unheeding 
The music, the birds, and the soft passing breeze, 

Which now in low murmurs were gently receding, 
In angel-like whispers, afar 'mong the trees. 

The cool breath of evening, with sweet salutation, 
Had greeted my brow, and then hastened away — 

Yet, it left on my spirit this mournful impression, 
That man, like frail roses, here blooms to decay. 

Still reckless I roam'd, till a white slab of marble 
Beneath a green willow attracted my sight; 

I paused — but I heard not the linnet's sweet warble, 
For all was profound as the stillness of night. 

Just then, a low voice, as the soft breath of even. 

Came stealing serenely athwart the deep gloom 

That shrouded my spirit, and wliispered " in heaven 

Shall friends reunite who repose in the tomb." 
20 



©atfjcrrli bg tfjc SMag^silre. 



I turn"H, to the. place whence it had proceeded, 
When lo I there appeared to my rapturous sight 

An Image — whose whispers had slowly receded — 
Whose countenance glowed with ineffable light. 

Her garments were white as the spray of the Ocean, 
When toss'd to and fro by the tempest's rude blast, — 

Her voice fell in strains of sublimest devotion, 

As the low sighing breeze, when the storm-god is past. 

With rapt exultation, I hail'd the fair stranger. 
As an angel of mercy, sent down from above — 

And found by experience this heavenly ranger 

Stamped her name on my heart — "twas religion and love. 



THE DEAD OF MONTEREY. 

Thet sleep in silence — o'er their graves 
The flag of Freedom proudly waves ; 
And, as the sun, with stately tread. 
Bends meekly down to kiss the dead. 
Our Stars and Stripes above them stream, 
And glitter in the morning's beam. 

No monument points out the spot — 
The warriers tramp disturbs them not — 
Nor battle-shout, nor clashing steel, 
Nor rumbling of war's chariot-wheel. 
Can rouse the sleepers from the gloom 
That circumscribes the silent tomb. 



STfje Parterre : % eToflrrtion of JFloiners 



They sleep in quiet — one by one 
Sunk down before the foeman's gun — 
While on that dreadful field of strife 
The drum's deep roll and thrilling fife 
Inspired the brave to forward press, 
Till valor crown'd them w4th success. 

But, lo ! above the unconscious dead 
The sable folds of night were spread 
In mourning vestures overhead, — 
Beneath the war-steeds' iron tread 
Their marr'd and mangled forms were trod 
Deep in the reeking, blood-stain"d sod ! 

The battle's strife had died away, — 
The towering spires of Monterey, 
That glitter'd on that fearful day. 
Like giants, in the dreadful fray. 

Fell in the furious blast. 
Now all was hush'd — the watchman's fiie 
Blazed broader, brighter, clearer, higher ; 
And where a brother, husband, sire. 
In groans and agonies expire. 

Its fitfiil gleams are cast. 

Those valiant heroes — side by side 

Tliey stood and fought, and bled, and died ! 

And from their breasts a crimson tide 

Of thick and clotted gore did glide 

In torrents all around ; 

But, now they sleep — a noble band. 

Who side by side no more shall stand, 
22 



<5at^mti ba tf)c WiaQ'-zitie. 



To save their own, free, happy land 
From Despotism's cruel hand, — 
They sleep beneath the ground ! 

" Peace to their ashes !" — may they rest 
In peace, till from earth's floweiy breast, 

The tree of freedom waves 
Its tufted boughs and vernal fold, 
Above their lonely, quiet, cold, 

And solitary graves. 



MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 

There is one little quiet spot, 

A purling stream beside, 
Scarce twenty paces from the cot 

Where my dear mother died. 
"Tis many years since then — but still 
The cot, and grave, and sloping hill, 
The bounding brook, and dancing rill 
Are there — I think of them until 
Sad musings make my blood run chill, 
And tears my weeping eyes do fill, 

And grief subdues my pride. 

I sought that place when autumn skies 

Wept o'er a fading world — 
When eve, wdth twice ten thousand dyes. 

Its starry wings unfurl'd — 



Kf)e parterre : a CCoUectton of JFlniners 



And memory back my thoughts had flung, 
When I in years and hope was young, 
When from that tender mother's tongue 
The voice of music sweetly rung. 
While to her sleeping babe she sung 
As fondly to her breast it clung. 
Ere death at her was hurl'd. 

'Tis many leagues away, but yet 

My childhood's home I see — 
Ah ! tridy. I can ne'er forget 

That spot so dear to me ! 
For, calmly there I laid to rest 
The truest, fondest, kindest, best 
Of mothers, who had oft caress'd 
Her reckless child upon her breast — 
My father I — the ocean's briny crest 
Which rolls along the darken 'd west, 

Beats o'er him wild and free. 

That grave with grass is overgrown — 

The brook and dancing rill 
To me hath each a plaintive moan 

While rushing down the hill : 
That cot, the place where I was born, 
Stands lonely, desolate, forlorn : 
The blooming fields of waving com. 
Of all their beauties rudely shorn, | 

Look meekly up and seem to momn — | 

While through the glen the hunter's horn | 

Is echo'd loud and shrill! I 

24 



©atfjrrctJ tji tfje WLa^csitif. 



SUNLIGHT ON THE HILLS. 

Upon a lofty mountain's brow, 

Bedeck"d with forests wild, 
Where waving cedars richly grow, 

A something paused and smiled ; 
It rested on the summit high, 

Where early dew distils ; 
And now it spanned the earth and sky — 

'Twas sunlight on the hills, 

A radiant gleam of mellow light 

Its dappled wings unroll'd, 
Until the far-ofF mountain height 

Seem'd limn'd with leaves of gold. — 
And falling to the plains below, 

It sported on the rills, 
Until the valley seem'd to glow 

With sunlight on the hills. 

Night gather "d thick and fast around, — 

A weary pilgrim's eye 
Had caught this ray — then on the ground 

Laid calmly down to die 
Beside a tranquil flowing stream : 

Convulsed with death's damp chills, 

He longed to catch another gleam 

Of sunlight on the hills, 

C 25 



E^e parterre : % (Collection of JFloincrs 



The autumn winds went sweeping by, 
Breathing a mournful strain ; 

And clouds that darkened all the sky- 
Hung trembling o'er the plain, — 

For long ere mom dispersed the night, 
And shone upon the rills, 

His soul had caught a ray of light 
On the eternal hills. 



THE FORSAKEN. 

Like the lone dove that mourns her mate, 
Alone she walked the leafy dell, 

And on her ear. all desolate, 
Her echoing footsteps wildly fell. 

She strove to hide the starting tear, 

The deep-drawai sigh, but half suppressed, 

The impulse of a conscious fear, 
And poignant anguish of her breast. 

She seldom smiled — but now and then, 

Involuntarily, her eye 
Assumed as wild a glance, as when 

The lightnings flash athwart tlie sky. 

The spirit-chord that bound her soul 
In spells of pure enchantment sweet, 

Sent to her heart a death-like toll. 
At which her spirit shrank to meet. 



©atfjcrcti bn tljc 5Ma2=sitoc. 



She sleeps ! — above her lonely tomb 
The hawthorn weaves a branchy shade, 

Whose tufted boughs and vernal bloom 
Mark where the gifted one was laid. 

Hers was the muse's lofty power, — 
And, as she struck the trembling lyre, 

Her numbers breath"d through life's short hour 
The genius of the poet's fire. 

Her feelings were so finely strung — 

So deep her thoughts — ^her heart so kind — 

That every disappointment flung 
A blighting shadow o'er her mind. 

And while the Muses on her smiled. 

And deeper roll'd each thrilling tone — 
Without a friend, in yonder wild 
She died — forsaken and alone ! 



^f)t parterre : a Collection of J'loiucrs 



TO MY WIFE. 

"Tis night — the silvery moon is high — 

The stars look down on dewy plains — 
The balmy winds pass softly by. 

And sweetly sound the vesper strains. 
Bathed in the moonbeams' mellow light, 

The limpid streams go dancing by, 
And every wavelet seems as bright 

As gems suspended in the sky. 

But I am sad ! Thou art not here — 

Within these halls thy tread is not ! 
And yet, remembrance brings thee near, 

And we are happy. Are we not 1 
Thy gentle voice, though far away, 

Falls on my ear like music sweet — 
T quickly turn, as well I may. 

Thy meek, submissive glance to meet. 

I gaze upon the dome of heaven, 

Where countless lamps hang high and fair, 
Whose pensive beams illume the even — 

And seem to trace thy image there ! 
The world is hush'd — deep silence reigns — 

Still as the noiseless grave it seems — 
And, gathering flowers among the plains, 

I see thee in my midnight dreams. 



28 



©atfjcrcU fcn tfjc 5Mai!=silJc. 



Morn breaks — night's shadows flee away — 

The stars are lost in purer light — 
Save that which ushers in the day, 

And shines the loveliest through the night. 
Like it thy smiles have nerved my soul, 

To tread the thorny path of life, 
And back the waves of sadness roll, 

When thou art here, my gentle wife. 



THE GERM OF LIBERTY. 

On Plymouth's bleak and sterile rock 

A band of pilgrims stood, 
Unshelter'd from the tempest shock. 

Which shook the gloomy wood. 
And, while the cold, ungenial air 

Hung on each rock and tree 
A frosty fringe — they planted there 

The germ of Liberty. 

The Indian from his covert gazed ; 

His bow and hatchet fell ; 
Awe fill'd his heart, he stood amazed. 

As by a magic spell. 
He saw that bold and fearless band, 

Whose hearts beat high and free, 

Resolve to make his native land 

The home ol Liberty, 

02 29 



Ei)e ^artcrrf : '^ (Collection of JFloiDtrs 



The dusky vistas of the wood 

Were clothed in darker night — 
Still, there the pilgrim fathers stood ; 

A wilderness in sight ! — 
And then, as Memory backward traced 

Its flight across the sea — 
Before their God they knelt around 

The shrine of liberty. 

The bloody stains of War, since then, 

Columbia's soil have wet : 
But o'er her sunny liills and streams 

That Tree is waving yet. 
Would that its boughs might wider spread, 

Until its branches twined 
A massive fortress round the world. 

Embracing all mankind. 

The slave would then shake off" his chains,- 

War's burning curse would cease — 
Ajar the prison gates would fly, 

And men would live in peace. 
That stately tree, now green and fair, 

Would lift its lofty head 
Up to the clouds — and back to earth 

Its heavenly blessings shed. 



©atfjcrrt bn tfjc ffijaag^gitic. 



THE DEATH OF GENIUS. 

It was a summer sunset, such as oft 

Gives glorious beauty to our western heavens. 

The clouds burn'd with a thousand stolen fires, 

And in the borrow'd beauty of an hour 

Lay bathed far in the depths of silence, bright 

As some Elysian dream of poetry. 

The golden radiance of expiring day 

Stream'd through an open casement in rich floods 

Of mellow'd lustre, o'er a couch of death 

"Which for a moment seem'd to lose the gloom 

Aroimd it hanging. On it lay a form 

Wasted and weak with sickness in the sweat 

Of its death agony ; and tearful eyes 

Watch'd with a vigil of anxiety. 

It was a form of manliness where age, 

As yet, had sent no pioneering sign 

To herald its approach. He had not seen 

The suns of thirty summers, and his locks, 

Unwhiten'd by a line of silver yet. 

Around his temples curl'd, and tliick fell o'er 

The sno^\7■ pillow. On his lofty brow, 

Pallid and icy, thought and care had left 

The signet that seems much more meet for one 

Farther descended in the vale of years. 

There was a flashing in his large, dark eye. 



®;f)c parterre : ^ Collection of J'loiutra 



At times, as lightnings from a cloud of storms : 
'Twas not the fire of health and intellect, 
But a wild, unwonted light ; and words 
Came in unmeaning murmurs from his lips, 
Half utter'd to the silence, and to those 
Who wept in sadness 'round his dying bed — 
That told the fever of delirium 
Had fired his brain, and reason from her throne, 
Where she had ruled so mighty — a queen — 
Was driven afar. And as the glorious sun 
Hid his slant beams behind the horizon. 
The breath departed from him. 

His had been 
A path untrodden by the thoughtless crowd 
Of earth's mortality, mark'd for the few, 
The gifted few that seem unmeet to move 
In our gross atmosphere ; whose spirit-chords. 
So finely strung, in a serener air 
Long to vibrate more freely. Realms of thought 
Had been his spirit home, and it had roam'd 
The fairy land of wild imaginings. 
Peopled with the creations of itself, 
Happy or sorrowful ; his throbbing brain 
Had labour'd with the beings that had birth 
Unbidden in its cells. And he had held 
Communion with creation and its God. 
The beautifiil had been his worship : he had found 
Beauties, that thousands pass unheeded by, 
And dream not of 5 — along his pathway strewn 
There were some dreams, whispering happiness 
Common to all, that an alluring light 



32 



<!patl)rrctj 6d tf)e 5L2IIaa=0itie. 



Threw o'er liis lofty path, at times to draw 
His spirit Irom its soaring, with their sweets. 

And Love was of them ; he had deeply drank, 
With all the passion of a soul like his, 
Een to intoxication, of its draught ; — 
But love was not a satisfying cup 
To an ambitious spirit, and it soon 
Left the gay dream to wing again its way 
Into the heaven of thought, and find delights 
Far more congenial to its nature there ! 

And now he lay in death ! The soaring soul 
Had left the breathless tenement that once 
Imprison'd it, and its mysterious flight, 
Silent, unseen had taken. The wasted frame. 
Unequal to the fiery soul it held, 
Oerwearied with its struggling wild to fly, 
Had yielded it. Oh ! what were these frail forms 
Of clay, if they were equal to the souls 
Burning within them with a flame divine, 
And with immortal longings 1 They were then 
Made deathless and immortal ! Who shall say 
That the dark grave doth cover all of Man ? 
And that there is no future where the soul 
May bathe itself in a pure atmosphere 
Congenial, and its high aspirings quench 
In full fruition of reality ? 



33 



Ef)t parterre : ^ (Collection of Jlotocrs 



THE DYING SOLDIER TO HIS MOTHER. 

'Tis evening on the earth, mother, 

l^he stars above are dim, 
And faintly o'er the darken'd wave 

Peals the low^ vesper hymn. 
My bed is on the damp, cold sod. 

My lips ai-e parch "d and dry, 
My brain is wild with fever, and, 

Dear mother, I must die ! 

Thy voice to me was sweet, mother, — 

It whisper'd in my ear ; 
Though once it cheer'd my childish grief, 

It caimot reach me here. 
The sabre-cut and bullet-wound 

Are ulcerous and sore ; 
Their pains destroy the sweetness of 

The voice I loved of yore. 

I am lying on the ground, mother, — 

'Tis hard, 'tis cold and damp, 
And through the gloom of night is heard 

The war-steed's iron tramp. 
I see the carbiiies flash, and hear 

The cannon's thimder peal. 

And oft above the fight gleams forth 

A sea of flashing steel. • 

34 



©atFjcrrt l)jj tijc i!I®aji.-sitic. 



I'm growing fainter now, mother 

Tm tlying far from home — 
That home, around whose sacred halls 

My feet no more shall roam. 
Sweet memories of my childhood rise, 

Like shadows o'er the lea, 
As if their fairy wings could waft 

My spirit back to thee. 

But, all is sad and lone, mother, 

And I am very weak — 
So much exhausted and so faint, 

I can no longer speak ! 
I go from this dark world of strife, 

To other climes to dwell, 
To seize my robe of endless life — 

Dear mother, friends. — Farewell ! 



THE STORM AT SEA. 

The sun went down behind a cloud — 
The sea-gull sought the strand — 

Dread silence reign'd among the spheres, 
And darkness o'er the land, — 

Save, now and then, the thunder's roar. 

And lightnings' flash along the shore. 

Anon the storm and furious blast, 

The tempest and the rain. 

Ruled by the warring elements, 

Came rushing down amain, 

35 



€f)t parterre : a CToIlccttan of jTlobjcrs 



Until the Ocean seem'd to rise 

In foaming mountains to the skies. 

And now upon the billowy deep 

A noble barque was seen, 
Contending with the madden'd waves, 

Like some fair river queen — 
With sails outspread and pennons free, 
It proudly dared the boisterous sea. 

Exulting hearts were beating high — 
Still, deeper groan'd the sea — 

And now between them and the sky 
The waves roll'd furiously. 

Alas ! upon that vessel's deck, 

The surges beat a partial wreck ! 

A feeble light is seen afar, 
On — onward still they press. 

And far above the storm are heard 
The signals of distress ; — 

And when the storm again was o"er, 

The ship and crew were seen no more. 



(Satfjrrrti in tfjc ^ISHafl^sitJC. 



MY BIRTH-PLACE. 

It stands, that ancient cot, 

A sparkling stream beside, 
A holy shrine, for 'tis the spot 

Where my dear mother died. 
She sleeps beneath that willow tree, 
Whose pendent boughs droop mournfully, 

And shade her place of rest, 
Where early birds their carols sing, 
Making the woods with echoes ring, 

Above her peaceful breast. 

How oft when evening skies were dim, 

And stars above were pale, 
When sweetly came the vesper hymn, 

Borne on the spicy gale, 
I've sought that sacred place to weep. 
To watch the crystal waters sweep 
In beauty down the rocky steep, 

To mingle with the sea — 
And thus Tve mused : Life's feeble barque, 
Through raghig tempests thick and dark, 
Glides on, (like Noah's trembling ark,) 

Into Eternity. 



37 



E^t l^arttrrc : SI (Colkrtion of jTlotucrs 



WALLENPAUPACK.* 

The tw'ilight fades ! — o'er Nature's lofty spires 
Heaven's starlit banner spreads its vestal fires, 
And shadows lengthen. In the gorges deep 
Wood-nymphs and sprites their sylvan dances keep. 
Where purling rills sweep to the plains below, 
And murmur sweetly as they onward flow, 
The Wallenpaupack wends its winding way. 
Lost in the shadows of retiring day. 

Bright stream ! How oft, when evening's balmy breeze 
Whisper'd soft echoes through the bendhig trees, 
I sought thy banks to muse and ponder o'er I 

Thy tragic scenes of legendary lore ! | 

While from the east, the moon with lustre bright I 

Bathed the green hills in floods of golden light, 
Tinging thy waters with ten thousand dyes, | 



*The Wallenpaupack is the name of a beautiful river in the north of 
Pennsylvania, -with vrhich many interesting legends are connected. It 
runs in an easterly direction, in a deep and sinuous channel, watering, 
in its course, the broad, alluvial valley of the same name. This valley 
was the famous hunting-ground of the Monseys, a remnant of a small 
tribe of Indians, who were divided and scattered over the State of New 
Jersey. But the party of which we speak, settled on what is more fa- 
miliarly called " The Wallenpaupack Flats." There they cultivated a 
small piece of land, now occupied by B. T. Killam, Esq. Soon they 
became involved in a war with the Mingoes, and all, save Wacontam, 
were either killed or taken prisoners. The name of the river signifies 
tranqviillity, as well as beauty. 



©atljfrrl3 I)]] tfjc dSaii^sitif. 



Like flashing gleams of sunlight in the skies, 

Sweet as the vespers heard at close of day, 

Which in low echoes softly die away, 

Came the rich carol of the night-bird's song, 

The voice of waters as they swept along, 

The low of herds, the fragrant evening breeze, 

The cow-boy's whistle ringing through the trees; 

The faithful watch-dog from his russet lair, 

Warnd with deep growls the rustic to beware. 

Till tired nature sank at last to rest, 

And drew night's starry curtain o'er her breast. 

Upon thy banks— within thy rural shade, 

Secomo wooed and won his forest maid, 

WhQe twinlding stars smiled through the folds above. 

Blessing their vows of constancy and love. 

'T was here Wacontam's ear first caught the strain 
Of love's soft lute— it ceased !— it came again ! 
Its breathings sweet entranced her soul, and made 
Her wandering foot-steps seek again thy shade. 
While sporting winds with her dark tresses play'd. 
By thy bright stream these youthful lovers sought 
The evening twilight. Every breeze was fraught 
With richest incense from the spicy heath. 
From hills above, from fragrant vales beneath ! 
And on the thorn and flowering maple trees, 
Were heard the robin and the hum of bees. 
And here, Secomo, when the twilight fell 
In purple curtains o'er the wood and dell, 
Invoked Gichee-Monedo, long to spare 
Inviolate the vows they plighted there. 



E^e ^parterre : ^ Collection of JTIo&Dfrs 



"Tis here my tale begins. I've wander"d long 

In quest of scenes to build a tragic song, 

And thy bright stream, sweet Paupack, didst inspire 

My Muse, and smiling, bade her wake the lyre. 

'Twas autumn, — flowers were dead; — the yellow trees 
Were nodding in October's playful breeze, 
When fair Wacontam left her fathers cot, 
To meet Secomo in that quiet spot. 
It was the hour — the long appointed hour — 
Their nuptial morn — when, in that silent bower, 
Wacontam to her w^arrior didst impart 
A boon of faith — the choicest gift — her heart. 
The towering hemlocks frow^n'd abo^'e the stream. 
And from their tops was heard the eagles scream, 
When wdnding softly round the bossy vale, 
Rich strains of music echoed on the gale ; 
And in an instant down the sparkling tide. 
The happy guests, arrayed to meet the bride. 
In light canoes, with war-plumes waving high, 
Gave three loud shouts, — and glided swiftly by. 

Fit was the place for such a holy scene ! 
The cedars stood the earth and sky between ; 
And every leaf that quiver"d in the breeze 
Hung like pale spectres on the bending trees. 

But hark ! a soxmd ! it dies, and now again 
Is heard an ominous sound. The hill and plain 
Give back the echo. Startled with surprise 
Secomo and Wacontam turn'd their eyes 
And saw, advancing up the rocky shore, 



©atljcrclr fig t\)t W&iaQ^sitsc. 



A war-like band. Tallulah went before — 

Secomo's rival ! He had tried in vain 

To win Wacontam, and, with proud disdain, 

Now sought to still the passion of his sovd. 

By deeds of blood he might not well control ; 

And, with one twang of his unerring dart. 

Pierced his twin brother, bleeding to the heart ! 

Wacontam saw her plighted hero fall, 

And mark'd the treacherous hand. Her comrades all. 

With indignation, swore to be redressed ; 

And forth they went. Each brow, each heart, each breast 

Bore indications of revenge. And now, 

Wacontam knelt beside her lord, to vow 

Deep, lasting, final vengeance on the head 

Of him whose hands Secomo's blood had shed. 

The scene was changed ! A band of warriors strong, 
With stealthy tread slowly advanced along. 
And paused awhile to see the waters leap 
From rock to rock, and hear them onward sweep. 
Till in the distance, far among the hills, 
They mingled with the sound of many rills, — 
Then calmly turning to a little mound, 
Which circling vines and lofty trees sitrround, 
A low and plaintive murmur reached their ears ! 
They there beheld Wacontam, while the tears 
Of deep regret in briny fountains fell, 
Above the dust of him she loved so well. 

Say not, ye cynic, of the tawny child 

Who roams untutord through the forest wild, 

d2 41 



Efie ^artcrrf : %■ dLolhctian of jTloiBErs 



That love, deep love, hath never been a part 

Of the existence of her simple heart ; 

For bravely doth the Indian maiden bear 

The boon of faith, of virtue ever fair — 

And when that faith and virtue are betray "d, 

Her hopes decay like lilies in the glade. 

She leaves her home — the cherish 'd scenes of youth, 

The dear companions of her faith and truth — 

And w'anders forth, like some young wounded fawn, 
From hill to hill, from tangled lawn to lawTi ; 

The wither'd leaves that pave the forest walks 
She deems as emblems of her fate, and talks 
To them as friend to friend, conversing sweet. 
And if, perchance, in that forlorn retreat. 
Where erst in youth's bright, sunny hours she stray "d, 
She wanders back, — her friends with whom she play'd 
All gone, or dead! — how dark the scene appears! 
She weeps long, deeply weeps a flood of tears ! 

Pause here, ye thoughtless, by this ancient gra^ e ! 

Here sleeps the true, the faithful, and the brave ! 

Here rests Secomo ! a warrior slumbers here ! 

Now pause awhile and shed one friendly tear ! 

Not that because the red man's ashes lie 

Hid from the gaze of heedless passers by ; 

But for the race oiF-swept by deeds of shame, 

Wliile every vestige of his noble name, 

Long hidden in the archives of the past. 

Have disappear'd. The Monseys' lot was cast 

Far from the land that gave their nation birth, 

Till, vddely scatter'd up and down the earth, 
42 



©ntljfrrli tn t\)c 'UMa^-siiic. 



A remnant came of noble-hearted men, 
To rest their ashes in this quiet glen. 

Brief is the story of that hapless race, 
And far more brief their joys. The chosen place, 
The mountain streams, the hill-side, and the glade, 
The deep, dark forest with its dismal shade. 
The craggy turrets, battlements that rise 
In awful grandeur to the clear, blue skies. 
Those pleasant haunts, whose rural, wild retreat. 
The tale of their capti^dty repeat — 
Are scenes still bright — long may their beauties last ! 
But they who loved them slumber with the peist. 
And thou, sweet Paupack, on whose crystal breast 
The twilight shadows calmly sink to rest. 
Thy rolling waves no more with blood shall flow, 
Like crimson currents through a plain of snow ; 
No more the war-whoop from thy hills shall sound ; 
No deeds of murder desecrate the ground ; 
Thy peaceful tide shall gently flow along 
Smooth as the numbers of a perfect song. 
No more above thy sparkling bosom wave 
The battle-axe, or falchion of the brave ; 
These have been buried in thy fertile sod. 
Which now seems basking in the smiles of God. 

Sweet the remembrance of thy early dreams, 

Wliich now burst forth like ever-varying gleams 

Of sunlight in a thick and cloudy sky. 

And for a moment on the mountains lie, 

Then disappear amid the gloom profound, 

43 



E\)e parterre : a (Collection of jTIoiiOErs 



And nought is seen — till suddenly around, 
Above, beneath, from east, south, west, and north, 
Bright PhcEbus bursts in all his glory forth. 

Return, my muse, too wildly hast thou stray'd, 
Turn back awhile, and touch thy harp again ! 

Take up the notes thou hast so long delay'd, 
And sound the paean in thy sweetest strain. 

The trembling moonbeams and the evening breeze 
Disported on the Paupack's ruffled breast. 

Revealing faintly through the forest trees 

A flickering watch-fire on the mountain's crest. 

A deep, faint voice, in echoes soft and low, 
Rose on the pinions of the incensed air. 

In tones so chasten"d by despair and wo. 
It seem'd uplifted by the breath of prayer : 

" Great Spirit ! years ago when I 

Thy Prophet, sought these hills, 
Above which bends the clear, blue sky, 

Adown which leap the rills — 
These awful manes and silent bowers 

First echoed back the strain 
Secomo sung ; those sunny hours 

Will never come again ! 

" His bones are gather'd to the tomb — 

Long be his sweet repose ; 
And long may his brave spirit rule 

Triumphant o'er his foes. 



OSatljcrfti tin tl)c WLuQ^si'bc. 



He bravely fought, ho bravely fell — 

He as a hero died ; 
I mark'd the spot, I know it well — 

'Tis by yon river side." 

Thus pray'd Laguna. Ere he closed his prayer 
A hideous shout broke on the darken'd air, 
And hideous shapes, grotesquely clad, appear'd 
With cypress wreaths and laces all besmear'd. 
Each in his arras, with slow and stealthy tread, 
Bore off the lifeless bodies of the dead — 
•Their ghastly fornis embalm"d, and all array'd 
For that nocturnal, deathly masquerade. 
They form'd a circle round the blazing fire, 
A motley throng, — of husband, mother, sire, 
And lovers too, — to celebrate that night 
Their " feast of death'" — a mortuary rite 
Observant long by every Indian race. 
At length prepared, each warrior took his place 
Beside an undress"d skeleton that stood 
In a fantastic, sightless attitude, 
"With eye-balls glaring on the gathered host, 
Like some rude spectre, or unsightly ghost. 

Their " death-song" sounded on the midnight air — 
Their watch-fires shed a wider, brighter glare— 
And the deep woods, save where that ghastly crowd 
Held their wild orgies — seem"d like a dark cloud 
That shuts from view the silvery orb of light. 
Which reigns and rules supremely, queen of night. 
There stood Wacontam by Secomo's side, 
As erst she stood — a joyless, weeping bride, 

45 



E])c IJarterrr : 'S Collection of jTlotoErs 



Witli tearful eyes, and a distrusting heart, 
As if unwilling to perform her part. 

Afiection is the strongest tie of earth, 
It gives our natures an immortal birth, 
It fills our hearts with hopes of future bliss, 
Restrains our passions, and our lusts in tliis. 
Exalts our reason, and refines the soul. 
Turns ill to good, and sanctifies the whole. 
It sets temptation's deadly waves aside. 
On which despair and death forever ride 
Like Centaurs vested with Lapithaean* skill, 
And hold ten thousand subject to their will. 

Wacontam wept long, deeply wept, and when 
The aged Chief approach'd her side again 
To bind anew upon her brow the wreath, 
The faded wreath — type of Secomo's death — 
Iler eyes suffused with tears — her pallid cheek 
Reveal'd the anguish that she could not speak. 
And, like a pale and wither'd autumn leaf. 
She sanlc o'erwhelm'd with agony and grief. 
The Chieftain, like a sage in former years. 
Bent o"er his daughter, to assuage her fears 
With gentle words, when, from an luiseen bow, 
A quivering arrow laid the Chieftain low ! 



* Lapith^, in inytholog}', were a race, or branch of the Centaurs, 
■who resided near Mt. Pelion. Of these people St. Paul, in quoting 
from Aratus, a poet who flourished 800 years before Claudian, in 
Acts xvii.- 28, says : Tov yap Kai ysuog Fa-jiev. "For we are also his 
offspring." 
46 



(KatfirretJ 63 tfjc WMrtiQ^siXie. 



He shrieking fell ; and quickly from the wood, 
Tallulah's warriors in a phalanx stood 
Confronting, face to face, that feeble band, 
Who sued for mercy at their captor's hand. 
Proud of success, and smitten with her charms, 
Tallulah clasp'd Wacontam in his arms, 
And through the dismal forest bent his way, 
I.ike some wild beast, elated with his prey. 
Unmoved to pity, on his warriors pressM, 
With murder raging in each heart and breast, 
Until their \'ictims, one by one, were slain, 
And silence brooded o'er the woods again. 

From hill to hill night's dismal curtain spread, 
And the thiek clouds grew blacker overhead — 
The gloomy alcoves darken'd to the sight. 
Where giant hemlocks form'd Eternal night. 
Or where the sprites of Ossian fili'd the plain, 
And moon-beams glitter'd with a sylpliid train ; ' 
A silvery mist spread o'er the vale below 
In soft, white curtains, like a cloud of snow, 
Until dispersed, by adverse tempests driven, 
It faded in the scowling gloom of heaven. 
The forest groan'd — the fiery lightnings play'd 
In zigzag lines o'er the Wanonian glade. 
The angry winds swept by with madden'd force. 
As Phaeton's chariot driven from its course. 
And whirling eddies of descending rain, 
In mighty torrents, hurried down amain, 
Till from the hillside and the mountain high, — 
Which rears its summit midway to the sky, — 

47 



E\)e paitcnc: ^ CToIIcctton of jTIoiners j 



The swollen streams o'crcharged their banks, and took 
Their rapid courses through each owlet nook, 
And onward swept, diverging to the stream 
Which slept in beauty, like a summer's dream. 

Still, on Tallulah bore his cherish'd prize — 
Still howl'd the storm — still blacker grew the skies- 
Still down the rocks, where an eternal gloom 
Hung, like the pall which circumscribes the tomb, 
The madden'd waters, in their furious might, 
Lash'd the dark curtains of that dismal night. 

Now, on the Wallenpaupack's sedgy side, 
Tallulah paused in all his fiendish pride ; 
And, as the waters dash'd around his feet, 
And back in angry surges did retreat, 
The floating drift-wood swept him from the shore — 
He gave one shriek, and sunk to rise no more ! 

Released again, Wacontam trembling stood 
Alone, beside that wildly beating flood 
Which bore away the wretch, whose cruel art 
Had brought her there with unrelenting heart ; 
And while the stream roUM on, though dark its roll. 
It seem'd like angel-whispers to her soul. 

The morning broke — the tempest died away — 
The midnight shadows melted into day — 
And on the sky the scatter'd clouds were left. 
Like trusting hearts, of every hope bereft. 
Again Wacontam turn'd a tearful eye 
Up to the clear, blue heavens, and heaved a sigh — 

48 



f, z zzz 

I I GatOfi"i"43 bn tljc MS.a.n-si'iiC. 

A bitter sigh — the sorrow of the soul, 
I Which like the waves of Stygia seem'd to roll — 
I And breathed a prayer, a simple, heartfelt prayer 

To the Great Spirit and Secomo there. 

**«♦*•« 

The seasons changed — the woodlands bloonn'd 
and smiled, 
And all seem'd joyous, save that forest child ! 
The golden autumn crown'd the fruitful year — 
Tall trees grew leafless — hillsides lone and drear — 
Sad winds went sighing in their onward flight, 
And faintly sang the lonely bird of night. 
Perch'd on the hemlock's jagg'd and wither'd spray. 
The raven moan'd the evening shades away, 
Till Phcebus, rising from the eastern sky, 
Wheel'd his bright chariot to ascend on high, 
While from his course the starry gems of night 
Fled, like retreating warriors in their flight. 
But still Wacontam noted not the year. 
Whose changes made the woodlands green and sear, 
For her own heart was like the autumn leaf. 
Which blooms awhile; — it died to all but grief! 
She stood alone — the last of that brave band. 
Reft of her home — her friends — her native land ! 

And now, once more, beside Secomo's tomb 
Wacontam knelt. The evening shed a gloom 
Around; but still, in tears, she linger'd there. 
To weep away her life in deep despair ! 
Lo ! as she knelt there, to her great surprise 
Secomo stood before her startled eyes ! 

E 49 



STfje parterre : "31 eToIIcftion cf Jloiflcrs 



She sought to greet him as she had of yore, — 
The vision vanish'd, and the dream was o'er. 
Down to the stream she bent her silent way. 
Where cataracts throw up their foaming spray, 
Until their vapors catch the passing breeze, 
And lodge in sparkling dewdrops on the trees ; 
She gave one leap, and from the rocky bank 
Into the deep and broiling waters sank. 
The waves return'd and closed upon the scene, 
And whirling eddies wildly play between. 
Which in their anger and increasing might 
Reveal her form, and quick again from sight 
Enshroud her in their white and frothy spray. 
And onward bear her sinking corse away. 



LINES TO A FRIEND. 

Touch thy harp gently, 

Oh, touch it again! 
Mournfully, tenderly 

Fell its soft strain. 
Wake it ! the sleeping dead 
Loved its sweet tone, 
Ere its sad echoes said 

" Thou art not gone !" 
List ! from the spirit-land comes back the strain, 
"Touch thy harp lightly ! oh, touch it again!*' 
50 



latljrrcti bn tljc JUnian^sitic. 



Hoarsely the winter winds 

Sweep o"er the plain, 
Down through the sea-girt vale, 

Out on the main ; 
And, on its chilling breath 

Flowers are borne. 
Pale as the cheek of death — 

Yet, not forlorn 
Will thy heart long remain pent in its gloom, 
For, like the flowers, it shall rise from its tomb. 

Gone are the summer birds ! 

Faded the flowers! 
Mute are the leafless groves ! 

- Silent the bowers! 
Soon will death's sable pall 

Hang round thy tomb ! 
And the good, young, and all, 
Share in the gloom ! 
But, as the morning stars smile out the night, 
So shall thy spirit rise radiant with light. 



= — = ^ 

Srijc parterre : a (CoIIcdtoii of jTIoixin-s I 



AN EVENING REVERIE. 

The sun has sunk down 'neath the Ocean's lone islands, 
And sweetly each ray bade a smiling adieu, 

Till again it should usher the day from the highlands, 
And waken the sad earth to gladness anew. 

The songsters of day to their bowers ha^•e gone, 
And their carols have died on the breezes afar. 

While the tear-drops of heaven bespangle the lawn. 
And soft steals the twilight 'neath evening's lone star. 

Earth's green hills and vales with deep shadows are spread, 
And the broad dome of heaven seems lit for a feast, 

With its mjTiads of lamps swinging brightly o'erhead, 
To be quench'd long ere morn decks in splendor the east. 

Oh, twilight of evening, how pensive thy hour ! 

Thy stillness how sacred — how dear to the soul ? 
For then 'tis released, as by magical power. 

And soars to where w^orlds in infinity roll. 

'Tis then that it longs for eternity's shore, 

And seeks, as the dove, where its pinions may rest ; 

A home, where earth's frailties may ne'er reach it more, 
Where nought reigns but bliss in the land of the blest. 



52 



Citatijnctr in tfje i!lS!Erra=siUc. 



I SPRING VOICES. 

1 

Listen ! how cheerily, 
Sweetly, and merrily, 

Down in the shade, 
Warble the birds of spring, 
White their wild caroling 

Rings o'er the glade ; 
And, the loud hum of bees 
In the tall maple trees. 
Floats on the passing breeze 

Over the hills — 
Down through the valleys, where 
Flowers both rich and rare 
Bloom, and the fragrant air 

Sports o'er the rills. 

Faintly the distant bells 

Sound through the woodland dells 

Soft and more low. 
Till, at the close of day. 
Gently they die away 

Pleasingly slow. 

E 2 53 



STfje 53arterrf : % (Collection of JFIoinjrs 



Up from the dewy vale 
Borne on the spicy gale, 
Comes a low, plaintive wail, 
Breathing a mournful tale, 

These soon are gone ! 

Flowers and birds of spring. 
Which bloom, and so sweetly sing. 
Making the forests ring 

At the first dawn. 
All, all will quickly pass. 
Then will tlieir songs, alas ! 

Cease in the lawn. 

Thus do the friends of earth 

Bloom and decay. 
Throwing the light of worth 

0"er us to-day. 
Then, like the violets' birth, 

Hasten away ! 



54 



®rrtf)rrcti in tfjc JMag^ailJc. 



THE FOREST FOUNDLING. 

The day was fast waning — afar in the west 
A pearly -WTeatli'd cloud rear'd its silver-tinged crest. 
And through its embrasures a ray of light fell, 
Like the wing of a rainbow, o'er woodland and dell. 

Away, far away in the deep forest shade, 
Where the brownthrostle sung and the wild panther play'd. 
Where the Indians' fierce war-whoop and shout rent the air 
In demon-like echoes, a lost child was there ! 

From her own quiet hearth she had wander'd away. 
Where the sound of her sweet voice had echo'd all day, 
And in that dark wildwood, afar from her home. 
Alone and be wilder "d the lost child did roam. 

The wild mountain torrent went sweeping along — 
Its hoarse notes were blended Avith snatches of song ; 
For, near to its margin, unconscious and free, 
A low voice was humming its vidld minstrelsy. 

Fatigued by his wandering, while searching for game. 
With the tread of a panther, a sly hunter came ; 
His heart lightly beat at the music he heard. 
And fluttered with joy when the rustling leaves stirr'd. 

The shadows of evening were seen on the hill- — 
On, on swept the torrent ; the music was still — 



E^c ipartcrrf : "3 (Collection of jFloiurrs 



And twilight's gay colours were spread o'er the wild, 
When the hunter discover'd the form of his child ! 

With the speed of the lightning that darts through the sky, 
The proud hunter sprang with a wild, frantic cry, 
To clasp to his bosom the treasure he found : 
Once more he rejoiced as he gather'd around 

The altar of joy with his blest little train ; 
The lost one is found, was the theme of each strain ; 
And when their rejoicing drew near to its close. 
To Heaven a prayer of thanksgiving arose. 



56 



A SIMILITUDE. 

I SAW two little streamlets 

Spring from a mountain's side — 

And mingling into one they form'd 
A river, deep and wide : 

Then, through a flowery plain below, 

In gentle wavelets seem'd to flow. 

At eve, a passing zephyr, 

As from an orange glade, 
With pinions light as ether, 

Upon its bosom played ; 
Then rising from its dimpled breast. 
It calmly floated to the west. 



(Satfjcrcb fig tf)e SMag^siUr. 



Still, onward tov/ards the Ocean, 

With ripples sparkling bright, 
The stream, with gentle motion, 

Bathed in a flood of light, 
Roird on, through mountain, vale and cave, 
Until it met the Ocean's wave. 

The feeble rays of moonlight 

Upon the waters shone, 
Like scintillations pure and bright, 

'Mong gems and diamonds thrown — 
And on its surface, sear'd and dry, 
A wther'd leaf came floating by. 



I paused — reflected — wonder'd 

What this could typify ; 
And, while I mused and ponder'd, 

A voice made this reply — 
The stream is Time — the withered leaf 
Is Man, Avhose earthly stay is brief! 



67 



Ei)c parterre : a Collectiotx nf jFlofntrs 



CHILDHOOD'S HOME. 

I Ve stood upon the northern hills, 

Where midnight tempests beat, 
And I have drank at southern rills 

Which murmur "d at my feet. 
I've wander'd o'er the western wilds — 

Stood in an Eastern dome ; 
But could not find among those scenes 

A place like childhood's home. 

Italian skies have o'er me smiled, 

Panama's zephyrs shed. 
In richest stores from every wild. 

Their fragrance on my head. 
But childhood's home, that place so dear, 

In memory I can trace — 
Can almost feel the burning tear 

Fall from my mother's face. 

That childhood-home 's deserted now — 

That mother's voice is still, 
And sighing winds pipe soft and low 

Sad music o'er the hill. 
Though it afar o'er isle or sea 

May be my lot to roam, 
Blest land, 111 ever turn to thee — 

Thou art my childhood's home. 

58 



(Satljrrctj in tljc WSSLarji-sitse. 



BATTLE OF BUENA VISTA. 

Ok Buena Vista's rugged height 

Cohimbia's warriors stood, 
And watch'd the daring Aztec force 

Advance in order good, 
With banners flaunting in the breeze, 

High, fearless, proud, and free. 
Fully resolved to strike a blow 

For '■ God and Liberty." 

On, on their sweeping numbers press'd. 

And loud their cannons roar'd — 
The brazen trumpet echo'd far 

Along the Mexic horde ; 
From mountain, hill, and deep ravine, 

Morass and chapparal high, 
In serried columns, on they came 

To swell the battle cry. 

Columbia's sons like granite stood : 

From Buena Vista's side 
The fiery shafts of war commenced 

The carnage deep and vnde ; 
And upward curling thick and dark 

Arose the battle cloud, 

As if to wrap the scene below 

In night's portentous shroud. 

59 



)c parterre : a Collection of JTlotocrs 



Minon's dark cloud of cavalry 

Like pinion'd warriors came 
With burnish'd lances lifted high, 

The onset to inflanae, — 
Soon face to face they met, and fought 

With cannon, spear, and shield. 
Contesting each the other's ground 

Upon that bloody field. 

Lo ! in their ranks a breach was made — 

They paused — fell back — they fled 
And consternation deep and wide 

Along their ranks was spread ; 
But, still our men, immovably, 

Stood like a bulwark strong. 
And pour'd their deadly lire upon 

The broken Mexic throng. 

The morning sun in clouds of smoke 

Rose o'er the Madre hills, 
And dimly through the darkened air 

Shone on the swollen rills. 
Whose waters, tinged with human gore, 

Rush'd by the fallen, slain, 
Wluo lay in many lifeless heaps 

On Buena Vista's plain. 



©atljfvfti bn tlje i!;S!lTnn=sitif. 



OUR LITTLE SON. 

Blest is the man who hath a child. Our blue-eyed boy 

With auburn locks, how sprightly doth he seem ! 

His tears and smiles alternate as a gleam 
Of sunshine in an April sky. Who would annoy 
The recreations of a child like him, 
When sporting w^ith his toys ? or seek to dim 

The light that kindles in his little soul ? 
That ray is small, but yet it will arise, 
As rose the star from out the eastern skies 

When our Saviour was announced. Who can control 
Such childish innocence ? We love him more and more. 

As day by day his smiles and joys increase, 
And in our hearts is hoarded up a store 

Of kindly wishes for his future peace. 



2rf)f 53arterre : % Colkrtion of JFIoiucrs 



THE FLIGHT OF TIME. 

Heard ye the knell of the dying year, 

As its dirge on the breeze was borne ? 
Saw ye the clouds encircle its bier, 

When the gems from its brow were torn ? 
It pass'd away with a noiseless tread, 

And quick from the earth it flew — 
But the gems, as soon as the Old Year fled, 

Were placed on the brow of the New. 

It pass'd in regal pomp and pride 

To the silent years that were — 
And, borne on its smooth, resistless tide, 

The young, the old, the fair, 
Have gone, like it, to their quiet rest, 

To their long, unbroken sleep. 
To the "spirit land," where the pure are blest. 

And angels their watches keep. 

Ah! many a desolate hearth and heart 

Attest Time's potent sway. 
As friends and relatives depart 

Slowly from Earth away ! 
But through the gloom of future years, 

Beyond the bounds of space, 

Hope's beacon star a light appears 

To Adam's dying race. 
62 



©atfjm-ti 1)2 tijc WLaQ-sitJt. 



THE EXILE'S RETURN. 

TuEY come, they come from a northern land, 

Where the deep, dark forests lie, - 
A weary, exiled pilgrim band, 

'Mong their native hills to die, — 
They come — where the crystal streamlets glide 
Adown the rugged mountain's side, 

To greet their friends again ; 
To hear the curfew's thrilling note 
Upon the evening zephyrs float 

O'er mountain, hill and plain. 

They come — but a tear-drop fills each eye, 

Though released from a tyrant's power — 
To sit again 'neath a summer sky, 

In their long forsaken bower ; 
And the bells that toll the hour of prayer 
Peal softly on the balmy air. 

Like distant lutes at sea ; 
The exiles hear the welcome sound, 
And light and quick their spirits bound — 

They know that they are free. 

They come — yet smiles — a joyous train — 
Light up each care-worn brow, — 

The haughty tyrant's servile chain 
Binds them no longer now. 



63 



Ef^e ^nxtcne : ^ ffl^ollcctiott of jTIoiuers 



Their days of servitude are past ; 
Hope dawns amid despair at last, 

And joys from sorrow spring — 
The gentle wind the strain prolongs, 
While they unite their cheerful songs, 

That make the welkin ring. 

No more to kiss the tyrant's rod, 

Or bow at his command — 
They come to greet their native sod, 

And hail their native land ; 
Where oft in youthful joy and pride, 
They stray'd the winding stream beside, 

And cuird the flowers of May ; 
Now all those " old familiar things," 
Remembrance o'er their memories flings 

In colors bright and gay. 



(5atf)erctJ 6a tfjc JHHag^stftf. 



MEMORY^S JEWELS 

I LOVE to wander back again 

In memory to the spot 
Where stands, beside the narrow lane, 

My childhood's humble cot. 
I fancy that, while standing there 

Within that cottage door, 
I see my mother's old arm chair, 

Just where it stood of yore. 

The pictures, too, are hanging still 

Around the white-wash'd walls ; 
And faintly o'er the distant hill 

I hear the water-falls. 
My father's mild and gentle face, 

Drawn by the painter's hand, 
Is still in its accustom'd place, 

Just where it used to stand. 

On the same shelf I still behold. 
Grown rough with age and gray, 

Our ancient clock, which always told 
The hour to kneel and pray. 

And now, in strains sublimely sweet, 
Breaks forth the evening song. 

As round the sacred altar meet 

That peaceful little throng. 

f2 65 



t!Lf)t ^atterr? : a Collection of jFlo&iers 

My marbles, hoop, and kite, and ball, [ 

Are in the garden near ; 
And oh I hear my playmates call, 

" Dear brother, do come here !" 

And turning round, my tearful eye 

Falls on tlie sacred tome. 
In the same place it used to lie. 

When we were all at home. 
But, lo ! my reverie is gone ! 

My vision, too, has fled ! 
And I am left to muse alone. 

Above the sleeping dead ! 



66 



©atfjcrftJ liti tf)c 2Maa=Bil)c. 



AUTUMN. 

The low winds of Autumn pass softly along, 

And breathe through the fir-trees a deep, plaintive song- 

The hills and the valleys re-echo the lay 

In wild, dirge-like whispers, that speak of decay ! 

There "s an eloquent teaching in all that is heard — 
In the sigh of the breeze — in the song of the bird — 
In the roar of the waters — the hum of the bees — 
In the fall of the leaves, and the v/aving of trees. 

There is eloquence, too. in the sights that are seen — 
In the change of the forest, now stripp'd of its green — 
In the gray, mottled vapors that melt into air, 
And hang for a moment in pearly wreaths there, 
Till, pierced by the sunbeams, they scatter and spread. 
Like fragments of rainbows still floating o"erhead. 

How holy the. hour ! In the blue vault above, 
Unseen spirits breathe their first whispers of love. 
And the gales from the mountains bear softly along 
The rich, gentle notes of their heart-melting song. 

The air seems enchanted with spirits that sing, 
More sweet and more full than the voices of Spring, 
As if to atone for the gloom that pervades 
The deep tangled wild-wood and thick forest shades. 



SCfje |3artcrrf : ^ Collection of JloJncrs 



Uplifted by echoes, the sound of the rill, 
That sparkles and leaps from the brow of the hill, 
Comes like the spent voice of the whirlwinds which sweep, 
In the might of their strength, on the storm-troubled deep. 

Though gloomy the aspect of nature appears, 
And the heavens alternate with sunshine and tears. 
Spring's warm breath will sever stern Winter's cold chain, 
And the woodlands burst forth into beauty again. 



FORGIVENESS. 

The sting of slander, like a poison'd dart, 
Burns in the wounded soul, and rankles there, 
Turning life's brightest hours of happiness 
To gloom. The holy image virtue wears 
Droops like a smitten flower beneath its weight. 
And innocence laments. A friend of mine. 
Whose heart was sinless as a new-born babe's, 
Whose songs were music to the raptured ear, 
Lay on a couch of death ! The hectic flush. 
Her low, sweet, trembling voice, her pallid cheek, 
Presaged the change her soul was making for 
The skies. Slander had brought her there. And when 
Her spirit burst its chains, she breathed on all 
A full forgiveness. 

How beautifully 
Falls from human lips that blessed word 



©atfjrrcti in tlje WiaQ-sitst. 



Forgive ! Forgiveness, "tis an attribute 

Of God — a sound that opens Heaven — 

Renew^s on earth lost Eden's faded bloom, 

And throvi'S again hopes halcyon halo o'er 

The waste of life. Thrice happy he whose heart 

Has been so school "d in the meek lessons of 

Humanity, that he can give it utterance — 

It imparts celestial grandeur to the 

Human soul and maketh man an angel — 

It turns the roughness of the world aside 

And fills the earth A%-ith joy. 

We made her grave 
Deep in a shady grove — and by it placed 
Her favorite flower — a monthly rose. It bloom'd 
But once upon its fragile stem : for, at 
Its root the canker-worm had coil'd, and it 
Grew pale and yellow — till its blossoms fell. 
Like her a victim to the spoiler's grasp. 



Ef)t parterre : ^ CoUrrtfon of jrioiritrs 



MY WIFE AND CHILD. 

I HAVE tw'o precious jewels, 

The fairest gems of earth — 
I love them — ^yes, I love them 

For their own intrinsic worth. 
The one — when cares oppress me, 

And sadness fills my heart, 
In meekness comes to bless me 

With her soul-endearing art. 

Her songs, like distant vespers, 

Inspire my heart witli joy, 
While, like a guardian-angel. 

She soothes our little boy 
Unto his evening slumbers 

In whispers soft and deep — 
And, as a spirit, watcheth 

His calm and peaceful sleep. 



The other. — oh ! what beauty 

Dwells in his playful eyes, 
More like the gems that sparkle 

At evening in the skies. 
And then, his artless mimicry 

Of all our household ways ! — 
He sings whene'er his mother sings, 

And prays whene'er she prays. 



©atljereti bg tf)e WLaQ-sitit. 



Such jewels God hath given 

To share my humble lot, 
As messengers from Heaven 

To bless my low^ly cot. 
And when the twilight fadeth. 

And darkness dims the west, 
We ask our gracious Father 

To guard us while we rest. 



THAT CHASTENED FACE. 

That chasten'd face ! — I saw it once — and there 
Was so much meekness in its quiet look — 

Such resignation — such deep lines of care — 
Such fortitude, withal, life's ills to brook — 

It seem"d to me that innocence and truth 

Were pining o"er the blighted hopes of youth. 

There was a beauty in her calm, blue eyes — 
A smile thatplay'd upon her fair, white cheek. 
As if, concealing grief, her spirit meek 

Had left the earth to wander in the skies ! 

She rests, like some unsullied ray of light, 
Hid from the gaze of heedless passers-by ; 

And as a star, in the bright crown of night, 
Her spirit shines transcendant in the sky. 



71 



SCi^e parterre : a (JTolIcctton of jFloiucrs 



DEATH OF MAJOR RINGGOLD. 

The soldier and hero hath sunk to his rest, 
And our banner floats over his grave — 

The tears of our Country remain unsuppress'd, 
For she weeps for the loss of her brave. 

He has sunk to his rest — but his memory still lives. 

Inscribed on the records of fame ; 
Wliile the heart of a nation its sympathy gives, 

At the sound of that patriot's name 

In the front of the fight, bold and nobly he stood, 

And valiantly fear'd no suspense, 
Till he fell, with his plume all bespatter'd with blood, 

And died in his countiy's defence. 

The battle had ceased, and the foemen had fled. 
And tlie cannon had silenced its roar ; 

But the field was bestrew'd with the dying and dead. 
And the ground was all crimson'd with gore. 

The groans of the wounded were borne on the air 

As the red torrent gush'd from his side, — 

With the laurels of victory surrounding him there, 

He gave up his spirit, and died I 
72 



©atfjcrcU fig tl;e 'HlM.as'Si'tic. 



THE STRANGERS. 

Thet met as strangers — ^yet a ray 

Of light upon them shone; 
They parted — still the links remained 

Unbroken, though unknown 
To other, save by one short day 

Of friendly, kindly song. 
That whiled the moments fast away, 

And charm'd the hours along. 

A different course before them lies, 

A different land they seek — 
New scenes before their visions rise, 

To them strange voices speak. 
But yet there is a kindred thought 

Steals o'er the hills afar, 
And seems with fond remembrance fraught. 

Though strangers as they are. 

And thus it is with life : we pass 

Our weary moments by. 
And friends, dear friends, too few, alas ! 

We find 'neath a wintry sky. 
But gleams of sunshine now and then 

Illume the darkest day, 
To cheer the drooping heart again. 

And chase our gloom away. 



73 



2r^e parterre : a (lollectioix of JloJuew 



LEAFLETS OF MEMORY. 

Mt thoughts wander back to a lovelier scene, 

To a spot more enchantingly fair, 
Than Italy's mountains or valleys of green, 

Or India's balm-scented air, — 
To the place where my infantile footsteps first stray'd, 

Through the lily-deck'd vale by the rill — 
To the place where, in childhood, I gamboFd and play'd. 

In the grove at the foot of the hill. 

There, a streamlet, as pure as its waters are rife. 

Rolls brightly and quietly on. 
Till it mingles its waves with the waves of the Tife,* 

And is lost in the beautiful lawn. 
By the side of that brook is the place of my birth ; 

But that cottage has moulder"d away — 
And that mother has pass'd, like a star, from the earth. 

To a home that will never decay. 

I wander in fancy again to that spot — 

The voice of that mother I hear — 
I stand in the porch of that vine-trellised cot — 

The place to my memory so dear ! 
But Fancy betrays — and Reality seems 

A burthensome weight to my soul ; 
It beckons me on with illusory gleams. 

While its Stygian waves o'er me roll. 



*Tife is the name of an exceedingly beautiful streamlet which runs 
in qmet grandeur near my birth-place. Its banks are richly be- 
decked with flowers, among which much of my youth was passed. 
74 



(Patljfrctr liji tFjc W^aQ'-siUe. 



THE GRAVE OF ALARIC. 

I STOOD where rolls Busentius' wave 

O'er him who was the " Scourge of God," 

Upon whose dismal Ocean grave 
No foot of man hath ever trod. 

No vernal flowers above him spring ; — 

Beneath the fathomless abyss 
He sleeps — the proud and haughty king, 

Whose pride would rule a world like this. 

Rome, ia the glory of her name, 
Had kindled in the tyrant's mind 

A longing thirst for deeds of fame, 
A sovereign prowess o'er mankind. 

He seized his glittering sword and shield, 
And roused his valiant men to arms ; 

And, quick along the battle-field. 
The tocsin sounded War's alarms. 

But now the angiy surges beat 

Upon his grave in wild affright — 

The warring winds above him meet. 

And Heaven withholds from him its light. 

75 



5Cf)e parterre : St Collertton of jTIotoers 



THE LIBERATED SLAVE. 

Released from servitude and chains, 
Bow'd down with age and care, 

He sought Ohio's sunny plains, 
To die, he knew not where. 

He wished to lay his aged head 

Down near his friends to rest. 
To make his cold and humble bed 

With those whom he had blest. 

But no : Oppression's iron hand 

Had driven him forth to seek 
A grave in some ungenial land. 

Or some lone mountain's peak. 

And forth he went — that aged man — 

With feeble steps and slow, 
With palsied limbs and features wan, 

And locks as white as snow. 

A heap of Earth which seems to rise 

Close by Alghania's wave, 
Points out the spot, they say, where lies 

That liberated slave. 

And by that spot the Cypress twines 

A mournful wnreath above 

His grave — a type, which oft combines 

Christianity and Love. 
76 



©atFjnctJ iQ ti)t Winv^silse. 



TO ORVILLA. 

I 'm thinking on my hapless lot, 

All lonely as I be, 
And feel there's not on Earth a spot, 
In spacious hall or lowly cot, 

I "d dwell away from thee ; 
And there is nothing that I prize 
Above thy meek, subduing eyes, 

Which beam so tenderly. 

The breeze that comes from a distant land 

Bears on its dewy wing, 
A breath as fragrant and as bland 
As that from Ceylon's spicy strand — 

And, in its murmuring. 
The sweetest strains of music rise. 
Like those which echo in the skies, 

When choirs of angels sing. 

But yet I may not cease to weep. 

While thou art far from me. 
For scalding tears nny eyes will steep, 
My muse in sadness, too, must keep, 

Its wayward minstrelsy ; 
For, should a strain of sorrow fall, 
It might, perchance, embitter all 

The joys of life for thee. 



Kite ^artn-rc : % Collection of JFloiners 



Then hush my Muse ! be still my lyre ! 

Wake not one plaintive strain ! 
Touch not, to-night, one trembling wire, 
Unstring them all, 'tis my desire — 

Wake not their notes again ! 
Nor let their melody impart, 
One feeling to the lonely heart, 

As Ossian's mournful strain. 



TO A FRIEND— ON PARTING. 

A FEW more weeks and we must part, 

Perhaps, to meet no more — 
But w-ell I know each beating heart 

That moment will deplore. 

There are strong ties that bind us here. 

Which death alone can sever, 
That fill the soul with joy and fear, 

Though we should part for ever ! 

Why is it that two trusting hearts, 

Which beat in concert now, 
Should feel grief's keen, envenom'd dart, 

And unto sorrow bow? 



(Satfjereti bg ti^e WLz^-sitie. 



TO TAM. 

Blahe not thy gentle muse, Tarn, 

And do not get so vex'd, 
Although her seemly waywardness 
Thy spirit hath perplex'd ; 
For if you do 

What you aver, 
To " spill your ink," 
And " throttle" her. 
You may, perhaps, regret the criiiie, 
And feel Just so another time ! 

'Tis true, the heart, at times, is sad — 

Dark waters o'er it roll, 
And sorrow's veil may often spread 
A gloom around the soul ! 
But, to despair 

When sorrows come. 
Is selfish and unholy, 

For light divine. 
Where'er it shine. 

Will banish melancholy. 

Thy lays have cheer'd my heart. Tarn, 

When I was sad. like you. 
And when life's cumbrous load of cares 

Press'd heavy on me too. 



STi&e parterre : ^ ffiollertion of JFIotoers 



They cheer 'd me then. 
They cheer me now, 
And often when 
My spirits bow 
Beneath depression's weary load, 
I think of thee, 
Whose minstrelsy 
Rings sweet along life's gloomy road, 
And feel my lot 

Has lighter grown. 
That there 's a spot 

With pleasures strown, 
Where pain and sorrow are lanknown- 
A rest which I may call my own. 

True friends, like angels' visits, 
Are few and far between — 
They should be loved and cherish'd, 
So few of them are seen. 

But why thus sad - 

When all is glad, 
And nature 's so romantic ? 

Then wake again 

Thy pleasant strain, 
Although thy Muse is antic ! 



80 



(Katfjtreti tg tf)e SUHaa^jeuUe. 



ON THE DEATH OF S. B. K. 

Mr weary heart is sad and lone, 

Since thou, my friend, art torn from me— 
Sweet ivy that had gently grown 

Around mine own more rugged tree ! 
So close entwined, that I had deem'd 

One life was ours — one soul — one heart; 
Nor, till stern death decreed it, dream "d 

How it could be that we should part. 

My heart is lone, — yet Earth appears 

Still full of light, and life, and love, 
As when we wept the childish tears 

That childish griefs and cares will move. 
The heavens above me are as bright — 

Yon moon e"en now her radiance darts, 
As if her beams fell not, to-night, 

On sunder "d ties and broken hearts I 

Still round me flit enchanting forms. 

And joyous faces, bright and fair ; 
Still smiles the Earth — as if the storms 

Of disappointment bred not there ! 
But my sad hear* is lone and dark — 

Life is a weary burden now ; 
And fell despair — its blighting mark 

Is traced upon my burning brow ! 



€'^e ^attnxe : Q. Collection of jTlotojrs 



The gentle reed, when sweeps the blast 

Of winter rude across the plain, 
Bends meekly, till the storm is past, 

Then rears its buoyant head again : 
But I — the sear and withered leaf — 

The lonely, tempest-riven tree — 
The broken and down-trodden sheaf — 

These — these are they that image me. 



82 



THE DEPARTED YEAR. 

And now another year has pass'd 

Unto that far-off land 
Where ages upon ages rest 

In one unbroken band; 

And, like a mighty conqueror 

Regardless of renown, 
It placed upon the New Year's brow 

Its coronal and crown. 

Hush'd now should be each gleeful song, 
Untouch'd the sparkling bow]. 

While Love and Grief bow silently 
To Friendship's sweet control. 



©atfjcvrti bii tl)c SU!Eas=sitir. 



Yes, even Pride should humbly bend 

Down from his regal steep, 
And Mirth from all her waywardness 

Should veil her face and weep. 

List ! the low winds are moaning now 

O'er the departed year, 
And gathering faded leaves and flowers 

To deck his royal bier. 

The grand old trees stand leafless round, 
Stripp'd by stern Winter's breath, 

Like mourners bending sadly o'er 
The solemn couch of death. 

The beautiful, the loved and lost, 

In silence seem to pass, 
Like evening shadows, mournfully 

O'er Memory's magic glass. 

And Hope and Love, with welcome smiles 

Would greet them as of yore, 
But something whispers unto each, 

" Be still ! they are no more !" 

Thy footsteps, Time, we cannot stay. 

Thy flight no power can bind. 
Save His, whose prowess rules the sea, 

Whose voice restrains the wind. 

Yet, when the stars from their bright spheres 

Like living flames are hurl'd, 
Thy mighty form shall sink beneath 

The ruins of the world ! 



Sfje parterre : a Colkrttoii of jriobjcrs 



If we could lift the dismal veil 

O'er buried ages cast, 
And thus reveal the darken *d things 

Which hang around the past ; 

Great mysteries, undream'd of now. 
One glance would then unfold, 

And many sad and gloomy things 
Too mournful to be told ! 

Still swiftly onward thou dost press 
With sure and solemn tread, 

Peopling with cold and lifeless forms 
The cities of the dead. 

Thou throwest around the young and fair 

The shadow of thy wing, 
And stealest from each human heart 

Some loved and cherish'd thing. 

And Science, from his lofty height 

So little can foresee, 
He silent turns abash'd away, 

At the dread thought of thee. 

And when we turn to Eloquence, 

Mute is her silvery tongue, 
As if upon her spirit's lyre 

The dews of death were hung. 

Ambition's trophied son may dare 

To write in blood his fame, 
84 



(Satf)rrfti ig tfjc 'UMan'-^itit. 



And on the list of conquerors 
Immortalize his name ; 

But in his glory thou canst pluck 

The laurels from his brow, 
And with the conquer'd nations lay 

His boasted triumphs low. 

Those who consume the midnight oil 

In themes abstruse and deep, 
Striving to climb the topmost height 

Of learning's thorny steep, 

Ere they have reach 'd the wish'd-for spot — 

The -summit of their toil — 
Thy icy touch congeals their hearts, 

And lays them 'neath the soil. 

Since thou art such a mighty King, 

Thy fiat who can stay ? 
Thy great behest is issued forth. 

And empires must obey. 

Yea, kingdoms, too, must own thy power. 

And every living thing 
Acknowledge thee, Time! to be 

The chiefest conquering King, 

But. when the last loud trump shall sound, 

And the sleeping dead arise 

To stand unpanoplied before 

The Builder of the skies; 

11 85 



2Cf)e Partoru : a CoIIfctton of jTIofefrg 



Then thou, with all thy regal power, 
At His command shalt flee, 

And sink, as sinks a fading world, 
Into nonentity. 



NATURE'S CONSECRATION. 

November winds swept o'er the hills 

Where oft in childhood's pleasant hours 
I sought, along the sunny rills, 

To cull fresh wreaths of early flowers. 
Two favorite elms, whose giant forms 
Have braved for centuries the storms, 
Stand in a cool, sequestered spot 
Beside my childhood's humble cot. 

Beneath their shade, in days gone by, 

A doting mother sank to rest ; 
I saw the last tear in her eye, 

I saw the sod placed on her breast! 
A sister too lies by her side, 
A brother, in his youthful pride : 
These consecrate thathallow'd spot 
Beside my childhood's humble cot. 



CSatfjerrt ba tf)e WiaQ'-sitie. 



A POET'S VISION. 

Upon a bank of roses 

A lonely poet slept; 
He fancied guardian-spirits 

Tiieir vigils round him kept, 
And that in tears an angel 

Stood by his side and wept. 

'T was strange, he thought, that angels 
Their watches thus should keep 

Above the care-worn poet, 
Who musing fell asleep : 

'T was stranger, one so lovely 
Should bend o'er him and weep. 

" I did not weep to chide thee," 

The angel meekly said, 
" Nor do I stand beside thee 

In mourning for the dead ; 
I sigh because so many cares 

Oppress thy aching head ! 

" I 've come to bless the slumbers 
Of thy dreams of early love; 

When first thy early numbers 
Were heard in Heaven above : 

And now, neglected poet. 
Behold thy trusting dove !" 

87 



S:fjc Parterrf : 3 (Collection of JTIoincrs 



He look'd ; he knew the angel 
More lovely did she seem 

To him ; but ah ! she vanish'd, 
Quick as a morning's beam I 

He woke ; it was a vision, 
A fantasy, a dream ! 



LAMENT OF THE INEBRIATE. 

Farewell! farewell! ye blest scenes of my childhood. 

Your sacred enjoyments for ever are gone ; 
Ye valleys, and mountains, and deep-tangled wildwood, 

Where echoes of music salute the first dawn : 
No longer the charms and endearments that bound me, 

Bright haunts of my youth, to that once hallow'd spot. 
Can shed the soft beams of hope's beacon around me, 

Or lure me again to my vine-trellis'd cot. 

By yon drooping willow my Mary is sleeping. 

Her infant reposing so sweet on her breast ; 
While angels around her their vigils are keeping. 

Lest I should revisit the place where they rest ! 
But now o'er the earth, like an exile I wander, 

Unpitied, unhonor'd, uncheiish'd, unknown, 
A poor, homeless drunkard, in sadness to ponder, 

And drink the last dregs of life's chalice alone. 



88 



«Satf)crcU bfl tfje mSLuw-sif^t, 



TO 0******. 

Come near, my friend— the dreary winter-blast 
Sweeps down the street ! come near, till it is past ! 
Yes — lay thy head upon my throbbing heart, 
And in my sorrows bear a humble part, — 
Come, sing to me some dear remember'd strain, 
Some pleasant song to cheer my soul again; 
For silence rests upon my spirit's lyre. 
And sadness lingers on each trembling wire. 

Oh, there are angels sent to soothe our grief, 
Who to our sorrows smile a sweet relief! 
And, though these unseen spirits of the air 
Are hovering o'er the joyless everywhere. 
They sometimes take the human form divine. 
And round the heart rich olive blossoms twine. 
Which, like the balm on Gilead's fragrant hill, 
Health's countless blessings on life's paths distil. 

Draw near thy chair ! How bright and wildly falls 
The fire's soft tint around the pictured walls ! 
The pictures, too — how sacred some appear ! 
Then come, my friend, and wipe away that tear ! 
Thy harp is mute ! — come, sweep its chords along, 
And swell its accents with some chcrish'd song. 
That my sad heart may catch a kindred strain 
In the rich music of thy voice again. 

II 2 89 



Ef)e parterre: a Collection of JFloioers 



A SCENE FROM REAL LIFE. 

It was a May-day, bright and clear, 

The trees were all in bloom, 
And grateful nature from the vale 

Sent forth a rich perfume ; 

While o'er the fields, with incense fraught, 

The zephyrs softly blew, 
And crystalized the sunbeam-rays, 

That sparkled in the dew. 

The cheerful songsters in the grove 

Their vernal anthems sung. 
And through the valleys, hills, and lawns 

Their notes symphonious rung. 

Such was the day, so bright, so clear — 

And noontide's piercing heat 
Invited to a shady grove — 

A cool and mild retreat ; 

When 'neath a verdant hawthorn-tree 

A stranger knelt in prayer, 
Whose aged brow bespoke a heart 

O'erwhelm'd with grief and care : 



90 



(ffiatfjrreti hg tfje WM-ajo-sitie. 



His voice was faint, and faltering too — 

And on his wrinkled face, 
As dew upon a wither'd leaf, 

A tear-drop I could trace. 

His head was silver'd o'er with age — 

The cares of nnany years 
Had furrow'd on his grief-worn cheek 

A channel for his tears ; 

And Nature seemed to sympathize 

With his despair and gloom, 
While God assured him he should meet 

His. friends beyond the tomb. 

I saw him kneel, and heard his prayer, 

Then saw the stranger rise, 
While floods of inundating tears 

Were streaming from his eyes. 

Beneath the hawthorn then he sat. 
And seemed so much oppress'd 

With the past sorrows of his life — 
Which centred in his breast — 

That down his cheeks' deep furrows roll'd, 

Alas ! the briny tear, 
The messenger of inward pain — 

Grief's only pioneer : — 



STfje parterre : % Collection of jFIo&jers 

And truly, they foretold a heart 

Beginning to repine, 
And well I knew the feeling was 

Rellected back in mine. 

Then to him calmly thus I spake : — 

" Kind sir, how sad you are ! 
What is the cause that fills your breast 

With pain and deep despair V 

" Young man," said he, " you little know 

What anguish fills my soul, 
Nor why the tear-drop down my cheek 

Should thus in anguish roll — 

" And should I now to you rehearse 
The tale, (though we 're alone,) 

Each word would fill a mournful page 
Of earthly pleasures flown !" 

"Most reverend sir," I then replied, 

" Dry up these falling tears 
That spring spontaneous from your eyes, 

And dissipate your fears — 

So that your feelings may ascend 

To Him who rules above. 
Where you can meet the smile of those 

Whom you on earth djd love: 



ffiatfjiTftJ fcn tlje JMafl^stUc. 



"For there your trials all shall end, 

Your tears shall cease to roll, 
And the refulgent beams of Love 

Will dawn upon your soul. 

" Though, while sojourning here below, 
Through trials you must wade. 

And bravely stem the floods of grief 
That do your path invade ; 

"Till the autumnal winds of life 

Shall bear youf soul away. 
To re-embrace your family. 

That sleep beneath the clay." 

Here, moved with tenderness and love. 

This aged, pious man. 
While Hope sat smiling on his brow, 

These words to me began : — 

" Beyond where you have mark'd the surge 

Of the Atlantic's wave. 
Beneath a weeping-willow tree, 

There is my daughter's grave ! 

" 'T is that which causes me to mourn. 

Whene'er I call to mind 
How soon her rosy cheeks decay'd — 

Fate did her joys abscind. 



Ef)e ^arterrf : ^ Collection of jTloiDers 



"And well I knew that I could not 

Induce her spirit's stay, 
For sadly of a breaking heart 

She 'd wither and decay. 

" 'T was when our nation was involved 

In war's unhallow'd trade, 
The British corps in phalanx sought 

Our country to invade. 

" Then from the plains of Lexington, 
The mournful tidings came, 

The British had endeavour'd 
To destroy our country's fame. 

"I seized my arms vindictively. 

And quickly did repair 
To Lexington's momentous plains, 

To join my brethren there : 

"And soon from thence to Bunker Hill 

The dire contagion fled. 
Where many brave and valiant men 

Now slumber with the dead : 

"And mournfully and sadly now 

Is heard the village bell 
Toll o'er the sacred, ballow'd spot, 

Where a brave Warren fell. 
94 



©atljcrftJ la tijc 5Ma2=2it!e. 



" There, too, is heard, in plaintive tones, 

A lonely maiden's wail. 
Serenely rising (as the morn) 

Upon the midnight gale. 

" Seven weary years, through blood and strife, 

Had closed their dread career, 
Before I sought my native home. 

To see my children dear. 

" Oh ! what a sight I then beheld — 

Oh ! what a scene was there ! 
My spirit's power within me sank — 

I yielded to despair : 

" For there my family reposed, 

Beneath the silent clay. 
And on their graves the woodbine grew 

In sorrowful array. 

" No voice I heard, which oft had fell 

In sweetness on my ear ; 
No wife, or son, or daughter came, 

My drooping heart to cheer; 

" But there the low autumnal winds 

In mournful accents tell 
That I to fate must be resign'd. 

And bid them all farewell ! 



Eife ^artn-rr : ^ (Collectiou of Jlotucrs 



" Yet, there was one escaped that night, 
When death was brooding o'er 

The fated inmates of my house — 
But she is now no more ! 

" It was an angel form, on which 

I oft with rapture smiled, 
As fond as e'er a father gazed 

Upon his only child. 

" But ah! the scene is greatly changed, 

And I am left alone 
To wander, till 1 'm called away 

To God's Eternal Throne. 

" Enticed away from those she loved. 

To England's distant shore. 
Beyond the snow-white crested foam 

And the Atlantic's roar, 

" By one who told her he would be 

Her ever-constant friend, 
My daughter was induced to go — 

Her future life to spend — 

'•'And leave me here, her loss to mourn. 
With sorrow, grief, and tears, 

A weary pilgrim — burden'd with 
The cares of many years. 



(Kati^freli fig tf)c WLa^-siXse. 



" There came sad tidings from the east, 
Which brought my daughter's death, 

Who, in a far and distant land, 
To God resign'd her breath. 

" Thus all my family are gone 

To their eternal home. 
And I am left behind them all. 

O'er this dark world to roam — 

" Till I shall lay my body down 

To sleep with them in death, 
And, to my Maker in the sky. 

Yield m.y expiring breath. 

" But oh ! I have a brighter hope, >. 

That when my life shall cease 
On earth, my soul shall soar away 

To Heaven, and joy, and peace. 

"Then I shall clasp my family 

Into my arms again. 
And be exempt from cares and tears. 

And sublunary pain ; — 

"There, too, their smiles I shall enjoy, 

And never more repine. 

But, as an angel clothed in light. 

My soul shall ever shine.-' 

I 97 



E^e parterre : ^ (CoUcttion of Slo'iatxs 



" Oh yes, kind sir, you there shall wear 

A crown of glory bright, 
And there enjoy, around God's Throne, 

Unwavering delight. 

"And you shall range the fields of bliss. 

By Life's pellucid stream. 
While on your aged and wrinkled brow 

Eternal light shall beam." 

" Farewell," he said, " I leave you now, 
Though tears are in my eyes. 

But hope that we may meet again 
Beyond the starry skies." 

We parted then, to meet no more, 
Till Gabriel's trump shall sound, 

And call th' unnumber'd millions forth, 
That sleep beneath the ground. 



ffiatlKrctJ br) tijc jyHaa=2iUe. 



DORCAS HELEN. 

I SAW her in the bloom of youth, 

A sylph-like maid, with downcast eyes — 
She seem'd the title-page of truth — 

A faultless being from the skies. 

It seem'd, amid her sinless mirth, 
While music blended with the chimes. 

That, though her body.dwelt on earth. 
Her spirit roam'd through purer climes. 

'T was sad to see her hectic cheek — 
That marble brow and beaming eye ; 

And yet, 't was sweet to hear her speak, 
It seem'd like whispers from the sky. 

Her home is in the hills away— 
The summer breezes fan her brow; 

And sparkling rills and brooklets play 
Around her mountain cottage now. 

Her thoughts seem rich with moral worth. 
And free from sublunary care, 

As if she 'd only come to earth 
To show what perfect angels are. 



09 



2Cf)£ ipavterrc: a Collection of Jloinerg 



TWILIGHT MUSINGS. 

The golden sun went down 

Amid Hesperian skies, 
And, on the battlemented clouds 

That seem'd to rise 
Like umbrage columns, or Egyptian shrouds, 

Shed variegated dyes. 

The evening zephyr came 

From woody dell, and glade. 
And stooping from its lofty height, 

It paused — and play'd 
Upon the bosom of a streamlet bright. 

And thus it said : — 

" To-day I left the southern shore. 
Laved by the bright, blue sea, — 

And in my course, I 've wandered o'er 
Rich fields, and mountains free. 

" I saw the slave in servile chains. 

Beneath the tropic sun. 

By tyrants scourged, till from his veins 

A crimson torrent run." 
100 



®atf)nT'l3 bQ tfje Wlnu-siOe. 



Thus must humanity- 
Kneel at oppression's shrine ! 

And kiss the rod, upraised to deal 
Stripes not condign — 

Inflicted by the men who never feel 
A good design ! 

The shades of night came on, 

And Vesta's radiant light, 
Like Luna, unobscured, sent forth, "^ 

Li lustre bright. 
Her brilliant rays, till from the north 

It sunk from sight. 

Methought, while thus I view'd 

This grand and glorious scene. 
That man, though bound in servile chains, 
Shall be absolved from all the stains 

That sin hath made — 
And on the wings of faith arise 
To purer realms beyond the skies. 



101 



Kl}t ^artrrrc: a Collcrtion of jFIoiners 



RETURN OF SPRING. 

'T IS sweet to hear the birds of Spring 
Their early lays and anthenas sing, 
Which make the budding forests ring, 
And which to sighing mortals bring 
New thoughts of life. 

The dancing rill 
Leaps, foaming, headlong down the hill. 
And hurries onward to the mill. 
In whirling eddies. 

Now the trout 
Plays beautifully thereabout — 
How I would like to hook his snout, 
Then twirl him round, and bring him out. 
To see him flounder, jump, and spout 
Like a young lawyer. 

Lo ! the skies 
Are full of atoms, smoke, and flies, 
Which thicker and faster seem to rise. 
Until, alas ! my aching eyes — 
Not that they are of such a size. 
Nor yet because they look so wise — 
Are full of dust. 

The violets blue, 
Which on the hill-side meekly grew. 



CItntfjcrrti l)ji tf)c JI15IIan=sttif. 



Again present a lively hue, 

And woodbines now are peeping through 

Their icy folds of winter, too, 

And warming in the sun. 



SADNESS. 

The silvery moon to-night is pale. 

The stars but dimly shine, 
And plaintively the passing gale 

Sighs o'er the Brandywine : 
But softly from the Ocean's breast, 

Pure as the breath of Spring, 
A cool breeze lulls my heart to rest, 

By its sweet murmuring. 

A cloud hangs darkly in the west, 

Touch'd with the day's last gleams, 
As if the sun had sunk to rest 

Into a land of dreams. 
I turn, in this sad, lonely hour. 

My thoughts to thee afar. 
While o'er my head night's curtains hang. 

Suspended from a star. 

103 



STTjc ^Parterrr : "S CoIIrrtion of JFIofccvs 



WINTER. 

'T js winter now — the hollow winds are high, 
The wither'd leaves bestrew the woods again, 

And swiftly float the dark clouds through the sky, 
Whose gloonny shadows lengthen on the plain. 

Obsequious voices, borne upon the breeze, 
Like funeral rites, along the hills are heard, 

Whose dismal sounds, among the forest trees, 
Seem like the moanings of the evening bird. 

The philomel hath hush'd her plaintive song. 

Her vesper-strain, sung by yon dancing rill, \ 

Whose shrill, sweet voice rose high, and loud, and long 
Then, in soft echoes, died along the hill. 

But, spring again, with vernal zephyrs bland. 
Will call to life the swelling buds and flowers. 

And with rich fragrance scatter o'er the land 
The germs of life — revived by genial showers. 

Thus bud and bloom the fairest of our race, — 

In early life sweet flowers around us spring. 

But soon, too soon, will strangers take our place 

And sighing winds our funeral dirges sing. 
104 



CEatfjcrctj bii tfje EJKaa^siTjc. 



THE EXPULSION. 

On the dim verge of day, when creation was young, 
And the first twinkling stars in the heavens were hung, 
In the distance appear 'd, like a spectre of night, 
A soft, fleecy cloud ; and, with pinions as light 
As the down of a thistle, it floated all free 
O'er the boundless expanse of the fathomless sea. 
The sun's parting rays tipp'd its edges with gold. 
As away on the horizon's borders it roll'd. 
While back to the earth a light shadow was spread 
From that crimson-tinged cloud floating gently o'erhead. 
The breeze from Euphrates, at twilight's calm hour, 
Came laden with incense through Eden's rich bower, 
And the cloud on its pinions was passing away, 
Like a vapory mist at the dawning of day ; 
Then, changing its texture to darkness from light. 
Again sallied forth in the strength of its might, 
Till across the broad heavens its shadow was cast. 
And the tempest swept by on the wing of the blast ! 
Still thicker and thicker the dark shadow grew J 
And fiercer and louder the hurricane blew ! 
And swifter and brighter the lightnings shot by. 
Till their bright coruscations bedazzled the eye. 



Till 



305 



STfje ^arttrre: a CToUectinn of jFlofiocrs 



In a vine-trellised spot, where the citron and date, 

And the lemon and orange a fragrance create. 

Where the robin's sweet song, and the hum of the bee, 

Echoed all the day long from each blossom and tree. 

Beneath a green lime sat the first of our race. 

With gloom in each heart and despair in each face ! 

" I have dream'd ! and my dream, how ill-omen'd it came ! 

It reveal'd a bright sword in the midst of a flame ! 

And cherubim guarded the flowery retreat. 

Where oft in the fulness of rapture we meet ! 

And the sword, a broad falchion, two-edged and bright, 

Gleam'd forth, like a star through the black folds of night ! 

I saw in our garden the lilies decay. 

The orabanche wither and moulder away. 

The tall oak grew leafless ; and up from the earth 

A willow came weeping a dirge o'er its birth ! 

And then a stern voice from the green, bossy glade. 

Where the wolf and the fawn in their innocence play'd. 

Pronounced a stern edict that we should depart 

From our Eden, and all that is dear to the heart ! 

I sought for the serpent who gave me to eat 

The fruit interdicted, so pleasant and sweet, 

That our fall and my sorrows to him I could give, 

And by eating once more might recover and live ; 

But, wherever I go, or, wherever I be, 

The sword and the angel before me I see !" 

Thus spake our first mother, and ere she had told 

The whole of her vision, the shadow unroll'd, 
106 



CKat^crcU fig tl^f WiaQ'-sitie. 



Like a badge of deep mourning, a curtain on high, 

And a flash as of lightning was seen in the sky ! 

And the voice of the Deity broke from the cloud 

In tones of deep thunder, portentous and loud : 

" Where art thou ?" — through Eden's green pastures and 

glades, 
Rich arbours, and dingles, cool fountains, and shades, 
Broke forth the inquiry, while, trembling with dread, 
Away from the voice of Jehovah they fled ! 

The sun rose that morning, and blushM as it rose 
O'er the sin-smitten vale where the olive-tree grows, 
And the dew-drops that glitter'd in diamond-like spray 
Wept themselves into vapour and floated away, — 
And, mingling once more in the tempest's rude blast, 
Again to the earth in wild torrents were cast. 
Till the sombre-crown'd hills, and the mountains were 

spread 
With omens that fiU'd Shinar's valleys with dread. 



107 



E:!jc yarlrrrr: Q. (CoUrrtioa of jFIoiacrs 



MOONLIGHT ON THE GRAVE. 

The twilight hour had passed. The ebon folds 
Of darkness gather'd thickly in the West, 
And nature seem'd attired in weeds of wo. 
No star was seen in the broad dome of heaven ; 
The moon was hid ; and not a ray of light, 
Save that which glimmer'd on the distant hill 
From some low cottage, fell upon the plain. 

Thus wrapped in gloom, and curtain'd with a cloud 
That spread its sable folds from zone to zone, 
The earth reposed ! How tranquil nature seemed ! 
No sound disturbed the quietness around. 
Save the low murmurs of a purling brook 
Which leapt from rock to rock, and in its course 
Made lonely music in the ear of night. 
I turned towards the city of the dead, 
Where sleep the gay, the beautiful and good. 
And where the youth, the matron, and the sage, 
Of every hue, of every age and name. 
In countless numbers lie. 

All, all was dark! 
But suddenly, as from a shattered cloud, 
A single ray of soft and mellow light 
Furst from the sky and rested on a grave — 
A grave half hid beneath encircling vines. 

108 



©atrjcvflJ fia tlje 2ISJan=sil(c. 



I paused awhile to wonder at the scene, 
And as I mused, a voice approached my ear — 
This grave contains a Christian's slumb'ring dust ! 
That ray is but the silvery path that leads 
From death to life — from earth to heaven — on which 
The sainted dead revisit earth again, 
And angels bear their messages to God ! 



AN OBITUARY. 

Thus in the morn of life, when Hope 

With dappled wings and plumage gay, 
Spreads out her evanescent smiles, 

To lure the mind from Christ away — 
We see the cherish'd ones of earth, 

Like blasted roses fade and die ! — 
Nor did we dream their day of mirth, 

Alas ! would flit so quickly by. 
But it is so ! — the burning tear 

That falls from sorrow's weeping eyes 
In melting drops upon the bier 

Where a devoted brother lies ; 

Is but an anodyne of grief 

Which speaks the language of the heart, 
K 109 



IT^== 



ci-Ijc parterre: S (Collection of JFIo&jrrs 



And oft imparts a sweet relief 

To mitigate the keenest smart. 
With proud ambition towering high, 

And prospects of unsullied bliss, 
He passed his " golden moments" by, 

Nor sought a better world than this ! 

Amid Earth's conflicts, wo and care, 

The " Gospel call" he heeded not. 
That " still small voice," which said ^^ Prepare," 

Tlie " one thing needful" he forgot. 



HOPE. 

A RAINBOW bent from a morning cloud. 

And kiss'd the dewy earth — 
It smiled, like an angel visitant. 

Through the tears that gave it birth ; 
And midway in the crimson'd sky 

Its mellow'd lustre met the eye. 

Thus Hope's bright rainbow, like a gleam 

Of sunlight glowing there, 
Attracts the toil-worn child of earth 

From life's turmoil and care ; 
And when through grief he sighs for Heaven, 

He sees it in his prayer. 
110 



(Satljcrrt in tf)c JMaa^sitic. 



THE REPENTING SINNER. 

I SLEPT, and dream'd, and in my vision saw 

A man stand weeping by his cottage door, — 

And in his hand a blazing light he held — 

The book that taught his soul the way to Heaven. 

And as I gazed, and saw his tears condole, 

With heart-felt grief, I heard him thus exclaim — 

" What shall I do !— what shall I do V' and then 

A man, with countenance sublime, drew near 

To him, and asked him why he mourned. 

'Because,-'' said he, "I find myself a man condemn'd 

To die — exposed to endless misery 

And wo ! No ray of light can I discern. 

But sable darkness spreads its curtain round 

My path, and leaves my hopeless heart in gloom I" 

" Look yonder, sinner !" cried the reverend sage; 

" See the glorious sun, how brilliantly 

It shows its lucid beams — dispelling gloom 

And darkness from the world ! Just so this Book 

Will cast a radiant beam of light on 

Thy dark path, and change thy mental gloom, to 

Light divine, and guide thy soul to heaven. 

" Dost thou believe ?" " I do," said he. " Then let 

Us pray," the reverend sage exclaimed ; and 

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When the sinner knelt in humble prayer, true 
And sincere, the Lord descended, blessed his 
Soul, and sent him on his journey to the 
Skies. He now is on his road to glory ; 
God is his guide, and heaven his final rest. 
Farewell, vain world, my Saviour bids me come 
Where pain and sorrow shall for ever cease, 
And tears are wiped from every weeping eye. 



THE DAUGHTER TO HER MOTHER. 

Oh ! Mother ! 'mid the blessed light 

Of new and tender ties, 
Thou knowest not the hoarded love 

That in this spirit lies; 
The love that with a thousand dreams 

Is on that path of thine ; 
That goeth forth with fervent love 

From this fond heart of mine ! 

Thou knowest not what mournful tints 

My homeward fancies trace, 
And how, with many silent tears, 

I pine to see thy face ; 
How all my lightly spoken words 

Repentantly return ; — 



(Sattfrrt hn ti)t WLaQ-sitit. 



Ah, me ! how many painful thoughts 
The absent one must learn ! 

Yet, I am blest ! and kindest words 

Are ever answering mine ; 
But never can there speak to me 

A voice so sweet as thine ; 
It soundeth in my pleasant dreams, 

It soundeth soft and low, 
And I feel again thy farewell kiss 

Imprinted on my brow. 

Oh ! let me in thy tenderness 

My early place retain, 
Though many years of change may pass 

Before we meet again J 
God bless thee, Mother! would that I 

Thy voiceless thoughts might share, 
For mine are ever following thee, 

In blessing and in Prayer. 



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THE LOVED AND LOST. 

The loved and lost I — their memory 

Is lingering round me now, 
As some soft vernal zephyr's wing, 

That fann'd my fever'd brow : — 
I heard the accents of their love 

In melting cadence fall. 
Nor dreamed the change would e'er be theirs 

Which comes alike to all. 

The loved and lost ! — Where are they now ? 

Those locks of auburn hair ; 
Those beaming eyes, with lustre bright ! — 

An echo answers — where ! — 
Where are they now ? — the silent tomb 

Is their serene repose ; 
And oft I wander to the grave. 

Which doth their dust enclose. 

The loved and lost ! — I see them yet, 

As roses, fresh and gay — 
I look again — and lo, their cheeks 

Are cold and pale as clay ! — 
Their forms, once fair, are lifeless now, 

Their eyes are closed in death ! 
They saw a brighter world, and then 

To God resign'd their breath. 
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Their souls have gained a higher sphere. 

And death's cold stream is past, — 
Theirs are the joys at God's right hand. 

Which shall for ever last. 
The song of Moses and the Lamb 

Dwell sweetly on their tongue ; — 
A note of harmony and praise. 

Which angels never sung. 



SONNET. 

Wife ! yes, I love thee; yet my heart is sad, 

And friends are sinking one by one away ; 

Oh ! do not think that from thee I will stray, 
For I have nought, save thee, to make me glad. 
I sometimes weep, but wilt thou not forgive, 
And let me in thy pure affections live? 
'T will cheer my heart to know thou still canst find 
A place for my lorn spirit in thy mind. 
Why should the past our happiness destroy ? 

'Tis best to let those by-gone seasons rest. 
And make the welfare of ourselves and boy, — 

Who toys and sports upon thy tender breast, — 
The consummation of our daily toil. 
To save him from temptation's deadly coil. 



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THE WANDERER'S RETURN. 

I STOOD upon a pleasant hill, 

With summer verdure crown'd, 
And tall old trees, the giant kings 

Of nature, stood around ; 
Before me lay a lovely vale. 

And on the balmy air — 
RoU'd the blue smoke in quiet trains 

From the chimneys scatter'd there. 

I saw w^here, in my early days, 

I pass'd the pleasant hours. 
Beside the winding brook that still 

Went murmuring through the flowers — 
And yet, beside my ancient home 

The grand old elm yet grew. 
Whose verdant leaves were sway'd and turn'd 

By every wind that blew. 

The wild vine in its woody glen 

Swung o'er the sounding brook. 
The robin-redbreast and the wren 

Chirp'd gaily in their nook; 
I saw the clouds on crimson'd wings 

Float swiftly through the sky. 
When the evening's blush came o'er the hills 

Where the ample woodlands lie. 
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All these are what they were, when last 

These pleasant hills I ranged, 
But the faces that I knew before, 

By time and grief are changed ; 
Where youth and bloom were on the cheek, 

And gladness on the brow, 
I only see the marks of care. 

Of pain and sorrow now ! 



A FRAGMENT. 

The noon is still, and sabbath reigns among 
These pine-clad hills with a pervading power 
Of holiness and life. Such deep repose 
Embalm'd Judea's mountains, when the Lord 
Of life proclaim'd to willing ear the words 
Of hope and peace. An overarching sky 
Above him spread, and earth beneath, while down 
The mountain's shady side the multitudes 
"Were gathered. Canaan's sunny fields and hills 
And peaceful villages were smiling near ; 
And all that living landscape and the 'bode 
Of men were imaged in the speaker's eye 
And heart. How sweetly rose that voice divine 
Upon the ravish'd ear, and died away 



a:f)e ^avtfrre : ^ CDllcrtioix of JloiDcrs 



To silence in the distant space ! How sank 
Its sacred accents into burning hearts 
That felt the majesty and power of truth, 
While tears of penitence, and joy, and love, 
Descending, wet those cheeks, embrown' d by toil, 
Which sin had harden'd — melted now by touch 
Of grace Divine. And there was age, with locks 
Of silvery white ; and lisping infancy 
Unconcious in its mother's arms ; who sat 
With earnest eye, attentive to the words 
Of wisdom. Rosy boys, and laughing girls 
With sun-bright hair and eyes of childhood's light. 
Forgot their sports and gather'd round with looks 
Of wonder. Each young heart was wafted on 
That stream of heavenly sound, proceeding from 
The Saviour's lips. Each childlike countenance 
Upraised in attitude of innocent 
Inquiry, mark'd with earnest look the mild 
And placid majesty that overspreads 
The Saviour's face. But who describe the face 
Where Deity his bright effulgence shows. 
And chastens all, and manifests to sense, 
The Godhead stands reveaPd in human form 
Illustrious ! What pity, quite beyond 
The reach of human power to comprehend. 
Gleams in the sweetness of his hallow'd smile ! 
What radiance in those eyes, from whose calm 
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Depths beam infinite intelligence and 
Love ! With simplest, plainest imagery 
And illustration did the Man Divine 
Convey to simple hearts profoundest truth, 
And solve the grand, momentous problem of 
Man's destiny and Heaven's purposes 
To be evolved in this our mortal state. 
Yonder the city set upon a hill — 
And here the sparrow chirping on the bough — 
The lilies of the field are growing near — 
And each became a vehicle of truth. 
Poor atheistic man, whose practice still 
Belies the language of his lips, was made 
To know, even from the perishable grass, 
One common Providence is over all. 



NATURE'S MUSIC. 

There 's music in the winds that sweep 

So piercing o'er the hills — 
There 's music in the foaming deep, 

And in the flowing rills : 
Around us, on the wings of air. 
Are strains of music floating there. 



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AN ODE 

FOE, THE FOURTH OF JULY. 

Hark ! — the jubilant songs of our Freemen are heard, 

And loud hallelujahs arise, 
Each patriot's bosom is thrill' d with the word, 

That our Nation is blest; 
And the star-spangled banner, which ever must wave 
« O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave," 

Still floats in the breeze. 
And shades the low spot where her patriots rest. 

The thunder-toned cannon o'er mountains and plains, — 

Proclaims the return of the day 
When our country was sever'd from tyranny's chains, 

And our land became free — 
When the bold sons of Liberty valiantly rose, 
With armour and shield to combat with their foes 

In martial array, 
And fought, bled, and died— to achieve liberty ! — 

Behold those brave heroes on Lexington's plains, 

When that hamlet was burn'd to the ground ; 
How bravely they stood by its smoking remains 

When her citizens fell, 
And the earth became tinged with the blood of the brave- 
The night-bird now mournfully sings by their grave, 
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(Satfjcrrli in tfje ?[13Ilas=sitic. 



And her low, plaintive sound, 
Wakes the lonely retreat where those noble men dwell. 

But the clashing of armour hath all pass'd away, 

And the struggle for freedom is o'er — 
No gushing of life-blood is here seen to-day ; 

While the flag of the free 
Waves proudly and gloriously over the land 
Which once was oppress'd by cold tyranny's hand, 

And thraldom no more 
Shall stain the gonfalon of our Liberty. 

The shouts of ten thousands ascend to the skies 

In triumphs for victories won, 
And loud acclamations of millions arise 

To swell the glad song 
Of a nation set free, — and the fervor to save 
Inextinguishably burns in the breasts of the brave — 

And truly there 's none 
Who will not, rejoicing, her glory prolong. 

Rise, gallants of freedom, with helmet and shield, 

And wide be your banners unfurl'd, 
As when you expell'd the grand foe from the field, 

And the tyrant, aghast, 
Turn'd again to the land that is ruled by a king. 
While we in loud anthems our freedom can sing. 

Each part of the world 
Owns Columbia /ree — independent, at last. 

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Let your cannon's loud thunder resound through the land 

In tones of rejoicing to-day ! 
And the trumpets declare that no Britan7i,ic band 

Shall martial our coast : 
While our banners still wave o'er the land of the free, 
America e'er independent shall be ! 

And no foreign array 
Shall dampen the vigor with which we now boast. 



TO THE ORIOLE. — A LAY. 

Fly home, gentle bird, to thy own native land, 
"Where the primrose and violets spring, 

Where the soft, evening zephyrs, salubriously bland. 
And songsters melodiously sing: 

To the land where the orange and lemon trees bloom. 

And the daisy and orabanche rise, 
Exhaling their fragrance in richest perfume. 

From the lily-deck'd vale, to the skies. 



ffiatl)crcti bji tfje ?12Eaii:sitic. 



TO LYRA. 

I SEE thee set, thou lovely star, 

I see thy light expire — 
As down the western hills afar, 

Thy radiant beams retire. 

I 've watch'd thee, when the firmament 
Glowed with a thousand beams — 

When star by star, in their descent, 
Were mirror'd in the streams. 

And oft I 've thought — how lovely fair 

Thy chariot-car must be, 
As gently through the ambient air 

Thy rays fall on the sea. 

And when I see thee set, sweet star, 

Thy light to fade away, 
I think of one that is afar. 

Who loves thy cheering ray. 

How oft upon thee, tve have gazed 
When all above was bright, 

When rivulets and rills were bathed 
In thy soft mellow light. 



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THE RETURNING PRODIGAL. 

Far from his home, his country, and his friends, 
A stranger, in a stranger's land he roam'd, — 
And when the pomp of Earth's luxuriant domes 
Had mock'd his proud design — he bitterly- 
Repented of the evil he had done. 
Sore pestilence and famine strew'd the land 
With desolation, — and anon he felt 
His riches and his reputation gone ! 
Debased in sack-cloth and forlorn in tears. 
The prodigal in bitterness exclaim'd : — 
" How many servants in my father's house 
Have bread enough to satiate their wants, 
While I am starving in a foreign land ! 
I will arise and wipe away my tears — 
I '11 bid my sorrow and my anguish cease. 
And straightway to my father will return, — 
And though, unfit to be a legal heir, 
I '11 seek a servant's place — for I have sinn'd 
Against my father's will, and now, alas ! 
Am no more worthy to be call'd his son." 

The father strain'd his aching gaze beyond 
The myrtle forests and the orange groves, 

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(SatfjrrrlJ hQ tfjc Witiiusitie. 



To where the perfumes of the orabanche 
Exhaled its fragrance to the balmy winds, 
And fraught each zephyr with its incense rare. 
Pale, and dejected — lo ! he saw his son 
Pensive and sad, returning to his home 
With downcast look, expressing deep regret. 
The father saw him — and with sympathy, 
In eager haste, embraced and kiss'd his son. 
The son exclaim'd in mournful words and meek — 
" I am not worthy to be call'd thy son ; 
Assign to me a menial's lowly lot !" 
But, when the father heard his contrite tale, 
His heart began to yearn with tenderness, 
And said,-^" Place on his hand a golden ring — 
Rejoice, and be exceeding glad with me ! 
My son was dead — but yet he lives again ! 
Was lost — but has at length returned, — prepare 
The fatted calf — and let it now be slain — 
Arise, rejoice, and keep this festival 
In fond remembrance of my son's return.'* 
'Tis thus the Lord in tenderness and love 
Invites poor sinners to the gospel feast. 
To satiate their longing appetites 
With food ambrosial from the Tree of Life : 
" Come unto me, and I will give you rest, — 
Will save you from eternal misery. 
And fill your souls with all the life of love, 
And wipe all tears from sorrow's weeping eyes." 
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BE BOLD! 

Up, sons of toil ! assert your right ; 

Put down the tyrant's power ; 
Rise in your majesty and might, 

And shrink as slaves no more. 
Delay no longer ! danger spreads 

Its snares along your way. 
The wily fiend of Avarice treads 

Upon your necks to-day ! 

The cherish'd things you prize so high. 

Your country and your hearth, 
Protect them, freemen, for they are 

The dearest things of earth. 
Around their sacred altars rise 

Songs of delight and joy 
As incense offerings to the skies, 

Pure, and without alloy. 

But when Oppression's iron car 

Sweeps o'er that happy throng. 
How do the sweetest accents jar. 

That trembled in their song ! 
Then, in your majesty arise, 

Put on your sword and shield ; 
And, if you move at all, advance. 

But never, never yield ! 
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(Satljcrfti 632 tfjc CMan^sitif. 



THE INEBRIATE'S GRAVE. 

There is one spot — one little spot of earth, 
Sacred to memory, and to friendship dear, 
Where woodbines twine their leafy tendrils 'round 
The antique walls that circumscribe the place. 
The willows' boughs in pendent posture hang 
Ahove that lonely consecrated spot. 
And 'mong their branches, in the time of flowers. 
The warbling linnet's cheerful songs are heard. 

An aged woman, bending down with care. 
With hoary locks, and palsied step and slow, — 
When Eve her silver-draperied curtain draws 
In silent grandeur, round the western world, — 
Repairs to wet that hallow'd ground with tears. 
The night winds bear upon their ether wings 
The fragrant breath of orange groves and bowers. 
And play familiar with her silvery curls. 

— But pause ! a tear-drop trembles in her eye — 
A tear that speaks the language of her soul — 
That stirs the fountain of remembrance up. 
And calls to mind the days and years that were. 
She cries " My son ! my son !" and on the air 
In deep and mournful iteration comes 
The echo back, responsive to her call. 
In deeper accents still, " My son ! my son !" 

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Now the low winds sigh o'er that little mound, 
And in soft murmurs, whisper as they pass 
Sic transit gloria mundi, — while her tears 
Fall thick and warm upon the drunkard's grave. 



THERE IS MUSIC IN EVERYTHING 

There is music in the breeze 
Floating gently through the trees ; 
In the twitter of the birds 
Singing sweetly in the woods. 

There is music everywhere, 
In the waters, in the air — 
On the mountains, in the sea, 
There is music, wild and free. 

Music, music, soft and low, 
Cheers the pilgrim here below — 
Soothes the heart with sorrow riven, 
Points the Christian up to Heaven. 

May sweet music, when I die, 
Charm my spirit to the sky, 
And conduct me through the air. 
Free from sorrow and despair ! 

FINIS. 
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